


Twenty Five Days, and We Had Christmas

by pensversusswords



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Dancing, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Hipster Steve Rogers, Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Sexual Content, Mistletoe, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Mutual Pining, Naked Cuddling, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Dancing, Steve Feels, Superfamily, Superfamily (Marvel), Superhusbands, Superhusbands (Marvel), Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 44,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensversusswords/pseuds/pensversusswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>25 days of Christmas drabbles filled with holiday cheer and sickening fluff. One uploaded a day, from now until Christmas Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll be Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> These will all be unrelated (unless otherwise specified) and I will upload a new one every day, all of them varying in length. Basically I'm just gonna have fun with this, no real set rules. I'm accepting prompts for this too, so feel free to send me your suggestions! Here's [my tumblr](http://pensversusswords.tumblr.com/), where I will be keeping everyone updated as I write, and will be posting the fics before I put them here. I'll update the tags as I go along, since a lot of them are still undecided. Hope you enjoy, and happy holidays! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the full desired effect, listen to [Michael Buble's "I'll be home for Christmas"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8t_forzHXzE) as you read. I had it on repeat as I wrote.

Later, Steve looks back and he’s completely at a loss as to where the sudden burst of courage came from.

Tony had just looked so adorable, sitting there next him in faded jeans and socked feet, with his hair all mussed up from leaning against the back of the couch. He was so close that Steve could feel the faint warmth of him radiating from his body, and Steve had thought more than once since the eccentric genius had flopped down there, how easy it would be to scoot over and press the length of his leg against him.

Of course, that wasn’t an option, but that wasn’t anything new.

Steve sated his desire for his teammate’s touch by relishing in their proximity, enjoying the way that even as he sat next to him, in typical Tony fashion he was far from being still. His hands were a flurry of movement on the tablet on his lap, and he was muttering words to himself, scientific jargon that Steve didn’t understand, but he’d always quite liked the sound of Tony’s voice. It was rather welcome background noise for Steve as he loosely sketched a drawing of the team, who currently were all flopped around the room in various states of dozing. Soft snoring came from one of them, probably Thor, accenting the sound of quiet Christmas music playing in the background.

Then, that song had come on. 

He’d heard it before, in stores and on the radio, the low crooning of a deep voice mingling with the gentle strokes of piano keys, smooth and blissful.

_I’m dreaming tonight of a place I love …_

He’d looked over then, looked at Tony in the soft lamplight, the way the arc reactor burned faintly in his chest, the concentration hovering around the curve of his lips. There was something about it, the swell of the music around them on that quiet December night that gave Steve that spark, that sliver of courage that made him stand up, tall and resolute, and offer a shaking hand to Tony.

"Dance with me," he said quietly, meaning for it to come out as a confident suggestion, but instead heard the way his voice trembled slightly with nervousness. However, if Steve was known for anything, it wasn’t for backing out of a challenge. He forced himself to stand still, to hold his ground.

Tony looked up, his expression vague and confused for a moment as he stared at Steve’s hand, clearly not processing what Steve’s intentions were. Then he looked up to meet Steve’s eyes, and asked plainly; “What?”

Steve cleared his throat, and spoke again. “Will you dance with me?”

_I promise you…_

 

Tony blinked up at him, utter confusion on his face. “Seriously?”

"Uh, yes," Steve answered, trying so hard to keep his voice steady and his hand extended. There was no undoing this now, he might as well see it through ‘til the end, even if the end meant him dissolving into a puddle of humiliation.

Tony set his tablet aside on the coffee table, still staring at him. “You’re asking me to dance with you?”

_I’ll be home for Christmas…_

Steve let out a breathy laugh. Hearing the words out loud definitely didn’t help the situation. “Yes, it seems like I am. You don’t have to, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

"No, no." Tony was shaking his head. "I’m just surprised. Didn’t think you danced, Rogers."

"I don’t," Steve admitted with a small shrug. He paused before continuing, that strange force of courage in his gut fiery and urgent, spurring him to say words that couldn’t be taken to mean anything other than they actually did. "Never found anyone I wanted to dance with."

Steve hadn’t imagined that he’d ever render Tony Stark speechless.

"Uh…"

"Look," Steve said quietly, "you don’t have to, you can say no if-"

"Yes," Tony blurted, seeming to be surprised by the loudness of his voice in the quiet room. He cleared his throat. "Yes," he said again, quieter, and suddenly he was standing in front of Steve, fingers closing warm and secure around his hand.

Steve knew his smile was comically pleased, bordering on foolishly ecstatic, and he would’ve been embarrassed about it, except that Tony’s answering smile was soft and tentative and so beautiful it ached. His fingers were tangled in his own, fitting against his hand like that’s where it belonged. He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed when something as simple as this could make him feel so blissfully happy.

_Christmas Eve will find me, where the love light gleams…_

He pulled Tony closer to him, bringing him further into the center of the room, trying not to revel too much in the fact that they naturally came together with no hesitation from either of them; Tony’s hand moving to rest lightly on his shoulder, his own hand cupping the curve of his hip through the thinness of his shirt. He couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off his face, but it was okay, but Tony was smiling back at him still, and Steve was pretty sure he could see a kind of contentment there that resembled his own.

_I’ll be home for Christmas…_

Then they were moving together, slowly, a bit awkwardly at first because Steve didn’t really know how to dance and Tony wasn’t the best at leading him through it, but it didn’t really matter. They stumbled a bit, their movements flickering between smooth and abrupt, both of them trying to find the right rhythm.

Steve didn’t care. Tony could step on his feet and leave him with broken toes and he wouldn’t mind, because Tony was looking back at him with that soft smile in the faint golden light of the room, and Steve thought that in that moment he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else in the world. This was enough.

Looking down at Tony, after they’d started to move together more languidly, their feet knocking into each other’s less and less, he found himself singing to Tony, the words quiet and secret as they escaped his lips on his breath.

_"I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams…"_

They were so close, so close that Steve could see in detail the fluttering of his eyelashes, the faint flush that spread across his cheeks, the undeniable sparkle in his eyes. Steve could feel his breath against his lips in tiny puffs, could feel the warmth of him seeping into his skin. They were almost nose to nose, eyes locked and intent on each other, something so delicate and poignant there that Steve wouldn’t have dared to look away from the golden coffee brown of Tony’s eyes.

"Can I read into this?" Tony asked quietly, and Steve faltered for a moment at the words, hearing the tiny twinge of doubt there. Tony was looking at him with unmistakable hope, with eyes that looked at Steve in the same way that Steve was sure he looked at Tony all the time.

Steve could be so blind sometimes.

"Yes," he whispered.

_If only in my dreams…_

Tony leaned in, closing that fraction of an inch between them, his eyes never leaving Steve’s. They were searching, as if they were waiting for Steve to back away from him, to let go and walk away, even though Steve had been the one to ask him to dance. Their lips hovered there, so close but not touching, for a few moments, frozen together in a glitch in time, as if they were both realizing simultaneously the magnitude of what they were about to do.

Steve knew that once he kissed Tony, there would be no going back. He was more than fine with that.

“ _Please have some snow, and mistletoe…”_

Tony stole the tail end of the phrase Steve sung from his lips, taking them for his own with the gentle press of his mouth against his. There was a sound that was almost a gasp, and Steve was sure it was him, but he paid it no mind. Tony stole from his lips what Steve was giving him willingly. Pressed together, frozen in that incandescent moment in time, they melded into each other like paint blending on a canvas. Two effervescent colours melting together, becoming new and vibrant, becoming more of themselves with just that gentle, undemanding touch.

Steve’s hand cupped the back of Tony’s neck, and Tony had his fingers curled tightly in the fabric of Steve’s shirt, clinging as if he needed an anchor. His lips were gentle against Steve’s, gentle and so soft, and Steve wouldn’t have had it any other way.

So it was there, in the living room of the tower, in the midst of their best friends and team mates who slept even though the world was shifting under their feet, that they danced for the first of many times. They rode the wave of the final strains of the song, lost in the music, and lost in each other.

_If only in my dreams…_


	2. The Santa Hat AKA My Boyfriend's a Dork and I'm Smitten

It took until they arrived at the Victorian style bed and breakfast, and were walking up the cobblestone walkway, their boots crunching freshly fallen snow, that Tony finally cracked and just  _had_ to say something.

"Honey?"

"Mmm?" Steve glanced at him quickly, with that little half smile he always gave when Tony got his attention. "What is it, Tony?"

"You gotta take off the Santa hat."

Steve paused, just about to take the step onto the staircase up to the quaint little doors of the bed and breakfast, and turned to Tony with a wide eyed expression.

"What?" he asked, wide eyed and confused beneath the obnoxiously bright red Santa hat that hung across his forehead, resting just on the crest of his brow. Beneath it, perplexed puppy dog eyes stared at Tony. "Why would I take it off? Clint gave it to me."

"As a  _joke,”_  Tony pointed out and Steve just shrugged.

"So? He wears his."

"Because Barton is a moron, Steve," Tony grumbled. "Are you going to take it off?"

"Of course not. Why do you want me to?"

"Because it’s ridiculous!" Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air with exasperation. They’d left the tower that morning in the midst of a gentle snowfall, leaving behind the expressions of fondness and amusement that the team had given them as they set out the door for their weekend Christmas getaway. They, of course, were looking at the duo like that because for one, it was so purely romantic that they couldn't help but tease fondly, and secondly, Steve was proudly wearing that stupid hat. He looked like something out of a department store window display. Tony didn't even pretend to not notice Clint snickering behind his hand when he saw Tony's expression upon seeing the tacky monstrosity atop his boyfriend's head. The rest of the team obviously all though the hat was cute, and secretly so did Tony, but he didn't think that Steve was going to  _keep it on._

"It’s not ridiculous, it’s festive, Tony," Steve insisted. "Where’s your Christmas spirit?"

"Buried under centuries of cynicism," Tony grunted, "right where is belongs. You're really not going to take it off?"

Steve shook his head with a little smile, making that damn pompom on the top of the hat wiggle ridiculously, and leaned over to press a soft kiss to Tony’s cold nose.

"Nope," he said, popping the ‘t’. "I will not, it’s Christmas."

Tony rolled his eyes, trying not to make it  _too_ embarrassingly affectionate. “You are such a dork, old man.”

"You love it," Steve replied in a singsong voice, flashing Tony that dazzling grin that he felt right down to his knees. He was such a sucker for Steve smiles. He was pretty sure that if it was scientifically possible to bottle them, it would cure all the world's sicknesses. 

Steve reached over to curl his fingers around Tony’s mittened hand, giving it a gentle squeeze with warm fingers that Tony could feel through the fabric. “C'mon,” Steve murmured, the words ghosting across his cheek on a puff of frosty air. “Let’s go inside.”

***

The thing was, Tony actually adored how much of a dork his boyfriend was.

Back before he’d fallen in love with the six foot tall hulking mass of muscle who was simultaneously a living teddy bear, he would've never expected that he would be completely enamored by the sweet little quirks of Steve Rogers, little things that he would have scoffed in the recent past. Little things that now made him want to kiss Steve silly every time he'd walked into the kitchen at six in the morning on his way to bed, to find Steve sitting by the window with the early  morning sunlight setting fire to every strand of his blonde hair. Most times he would find him there hunched over a crossword puzzle, or sometimes he’d even be knitting,  _knitting_ , and Tony was embarrassed to say that the sight would immediately make him melt. He had a sickness. A Steve sickness.

But the thing was, around Christmas, Tony had discovered that Steve’s dorky behaviour increased  tenfold over the holidays. It was their first holiday season together, and Steve had already worn at least ten different tacky Christmas sweaters, gone carolling at least once, and sent out Christmas cards to everyone they knew. Even Fury. Tony rolled his eyes and made fun of his sweaters and the carolling and had doubled over laughing so hard his stomach hurt at the mental image of Fury opening an envelope to find a card with a snowman grinning at him, a gaudy coloured scarf wrapped around his neck, telling him to have a  _“_ Out _snow_ ding Christmas,” from the Avengers. The inside was signed by the whole team, by order of Captain Rogers. The pun was horrible, just  _horrible_ , it didn't even make sense and it wasn't clever at all; Tony was well within his rights to think it was hilarious.

Despite all of Tony’s teasing, Steve would just watch him with that soft grin, nod his head and chuckle at Tony’s reaction. His eyes would be sparkling as he assessed Tony, watching him with knowing eyes, as if he knew that Tony found it unbearably adorable. It was increasingly frightening to Tony how easy it was to Steve to read him like an open book.

He probably should’ve been more concerned about it, but then Steve would look at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world, and Tony just figured  _what the hell._ Might as well enjoy the "sickeningly in love" shtick for as long as he could.

He couldn't really complain about being so blissfully happy. He was going to soak up every bit of it that he could for as long as it lasted.

Which was why that evening, when they tumbled through the door of their small little bedroom (Steve had insisted on a small, inexpensive location for their getaway, and Tony only protested moderately, because he was a sucker), from a snowy evening walk through the little village, cheeks flushed with cold and their hair messed from their hats, that Tony was only a little embarrassed when he pressed a cold kiss to Steve’s cheek and said, “let’s sit in front of the fire,” like the sickening romantic he never thought he’d be.

Steve just grinned at him, squeezed his fingers and nodded. “Let me make hot chocolate first, okay?”

"Not coffee?" Tony grouched, and Steve shook his head.

"Nope, didn't bring any. If you want coffee you’re gonna have to find it elsewhere. I’m making hot chocolate, and you're gonna love it."

"You're a cruel man, Rogers," Tony grumbled, but he was grinning. He could go a night without coffee, he planned on sleeping the whole night curled up next to his super soldier heater all night anyways. No need for a caffeine kick.

Yawning, he yanked a comforter off of the bed, along with a few absurdly fluffy pillows, and proceeded to bad across the room. Since there were no adequate chairs in the room to fit the both of them, he decided to make a nest with them in front of the gaping hole in the wall that was the elegant wrought iron fireplace. It cast warm glowing light around the room, just enough blazing heat to be comfortable after just being outside. It was, Tony thought, perfect.

He had just finished making himself comfortable in the mass of pillows and blankets he'd spread haphazardly on the floor when Steve returned with two mugs in his hands. They were topped with red and green flecked whipped cream, and a candy cane poked out of each one - Steve wasn't one to skimp on his hot chocolate, he'd learned. He passed one to Tony, and then lowered himself down to the floor. He slid in behind Tony, pulling him against his chest, slotting into place against his back, right where he belonged.

"Hey there," Steve murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

"Hello, gorgeous," Tony whispered back, and tilted his head to brush a faint kiss to Steve’s mouth. Steve hummed happily against his lips, a warm hand splayed on his stomach, holding him tightly against him; safe and secure.

Tony leaned his head back onto Steve’s shoulder, tucking his forehead into the crook of Steve's neck. He burrowed himself deeper into the cocoon of blankets, sipping from the steaming mug in his hands. It was, admittedly, rather good. Perhaps not better than coffee, but pretty damn near as good. 

"Do you like it?" Steve asked him after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "If you don’t I can go walk to a store or something to find you coffee. I think I saw somewhere on our way here, it would only take about thirty minutes…"

Tony was shaking his head before Steve even finished. Of course Steve would offer to go walk for thirty minutes in the freezing cold just to get Tony a damn coffee.

"Hush," Tony told him, and kissed him silent, lips warm and gentle. "It’s great, you're great, and if you leave now I will be very upset. This is better than coffee."

Steve raised his eyebrows as he gazed down at Tony. “Better than coffee? That sounds like a betrayal to me, Tony, how will you go home to your stash?”

"I’m on vacation," he snorted, and kissed the underside of Steve’s jaw. "If I want to enjoy my boyfriend’s hot chocolate and company, the coffee is just gonna have to understand."

"What has the world come to," Steve teased mournfully.

"I don't know," Tony groaned, "but I blame it all on you."  

Steve chuckled, the deep sound rumbling in his chest. “Okay, Tony.”

Tony just cuddled closer, too blissfully content to feel a moment of shame for it.

There was a long, unhurried pause before Tony spoke again, his voice hesitant and only a bit begrudging.

"The Santa hat isn't that bad."

Tony could practically hear the smile in Steve's voice when he responded with a quiet, "okay, Tony."

After a beat, Tony continued speaking, scowling grouchily, but determined to say what he wanted to say. "I don't mind if you wear it. It's... cute."

"Mmm," Steve hummed.

Tony just grunted moodily back at him, saying without words that that was all Steve was going to get out of him

Of course, Steve understood. He leaned down to kiss his cheek lightly, and his bemused voice tickled his flesh as he spoke, lips still pressed gently to his cheek. "Yeah, I know."

Tony sighed, still keeping his expression unpleased, but it was all for show and both him and Steve knew it. Tony just huddled in closer, into the soft, firm warmth that was Steve. Just for a while, he could lose himself in this. It was only the first Christmas Tony had spent with him, but he decided right then that he never again wanted to spend another one without him.


	3. Maybe Not so Bad After All

When a dark haired, coffee brown eyed mass of alcohol induced excitement crashed into his chest, it took Steve about a full five seconds to process what had just happened.

See, he was at his office Christmas party, which he had fully expected to be a dull affair that he could simply attend, mingle for the appropriate amount of time, and quietly slip out. It wasn't not that he hated parties, but he wasn't overly fond of them; often finding mindless conversation pointless and rowdy behaviour too much for him. Sometimes he'd have fun, but tonight, he'd wanted to stay home. Genuinely not feeling like interacting with anyone, he'd wanted to curl up on his couch with his cat, and just let the world fade away as he watched Christmas movies filled with bottomless holiday spirit. But he'd felt obligated to go, knowing that after the holidays he'd pay for it, since there was no way he'd be able to make up an excuse (he was a terrifically horrible liar, he'd been told many a time), and so he went. He'd had every intention of leaving before eleven o'clock.

Then, one of his coworkers, a hulking blonde Adonis named Thor, had brought some potent, sweet tasting liquor from his home country, and everyone had a bit, and then a bit more, and then suddenly everyone was drunk. Which meant, boundaries were out the window. Every time he tried to sneak out the door, someone would mournfully ask him where he was going, and he'd give them a plastic smile and say nowhere.

So there he was, at a party he was very much ready to be done with, talking idly to a gaggle of coworkers he hardly knew as he smiled and laughed along with whatever they were saying, when a certain, mildly intoxicated someone stumbled into his arms. He instinctively raised his hands to cup the man's forearms, fingers curling tightly around warm flesh, as their face crashed into Steve's chest.

"Oof," the man said, as if the slight fall had knocked the breath out of him. There was an instant of flushed realization where Steve became aware that the person was in fact, his close friend and coworker, Tony Stark.  

"Uh," Steve said blankly, surprised to suddenly have an armful of Tony, the resident genius, who was now lifting his head from Steve's chest to stare at him with bleary, confused eyes.

Who also happened to be the man Steve was hopelessly smitten with.

"Whoa," Tony said breathlessly, his voice a little distant and slurred, "watch out."

After Steve was done with his five seconds of bewilderment, he shook himself and managed a small smile down at Tony. "You're the one who ran into me, Tony."

"Semantics," Tony slurred back. He poked Steve's chest with one finger, and grinned up at him, seemingly pleased for some unknown reason. "Thanks for catching me Mr. Muscles."

Steve let out a giddy laugh and hoped the internal blush he felt at that didn't show up on his face. Or at least, that Tony wouldn't notice. "Any time, Tony."

"Such a gentleman," Tony murmured, looking up at Steve through hooded eyelids, a faint grin painted onto his lips.

It was about at that moment that Steve realized that he was still clutching Tony's arms, supporting his weight as he leaned into him.

Slowly he released him, and took a step backwards. Tony swayed a bit as he backed away, but he didn't seem to be in any danger of falling, so Steve forced himself to stay put, however nice it had been to have Tony pressed against him.

"Yeah, you could say that," Steve said wryly, "but it would've been kind of awful for me to let you just fall on your face."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he told him cheerfully, then turned to look over his shoulder. "I scared away your group."

"My - oh. Them." Somewhere between Tony falling on him and him fumbling to be casual about it, the unnamed coworkers had drifted away, all headed in their own directions. "They weren't really my group, I hardly know them."

"Mmm," Tony hummed, and observed him quietly for a few moments before speaking. "You know what?" he asked.

"What is it?"

"This party sucks," Tony announced, as if it was some kind of proclamation the world was just waiting to hear. He surveyed the room of rumpled office workers with a look of disapproval.

"Thor's magic juice didn't make it interesting enough?" Steve asked, his tone amused.

Tony gave him a disbelieving look  that probably would've worked a lot better if his features hadn't been all soft and relaxed by the wonders of alcohol. "A rather dim light in a rather dim room, Steve. No alcohol I've ever met has ever given boring people the ability to be entertaining."

Steve just chuckled and shook his head. "Then why did you come?"

"Because Pepper made me," he said miserably, and pointed his finger at his red haired, elegant boss who was talking to a short, balding man as she sipped from her drink. "She said I had to make an appearance."

"That's too bad," Steve said sympathetically.

"It is."

"I didn't want to come either, I wanted to watch Christmas movies," Steve admitted with a twist of his lips. He hadn't meant to say that. That was embarrassing right? Tony hadn't seemed to notice though, so he just plowed on."I've been trying to leave for forever."

Tony's eyes brightened at that. "Let's leave then."

"What?"

"Let's leave," he insisted, and reached out to firmly grasp Steve's arm. Steve tried not to shudder at the deliberate contact, telling himself to get a grip, he was just being friendly. "Come on, no one's paying attention, now's our chance."

Tony glanced around the room quickly, as if to reinforce his statement, and then turned back to Steve with insistent eyes.

"Are you sure we can just leave?" Steve asked, still hesitant.

"Yes, yes, come on, swiftly Rogers, we haven't got all night."

Steve suddenly found himself being ushered out the door by a still tipsy Tony Stark, wondering how on earth this turned out to be his night.

***

He wasn't completely sure _how,_ but somewhere between the office and the street in front of the building, it was decided that they were heading back to Steve's place, and he had no idea how that had happened. The cab ride had been spent with him listening to Tony yammer away in his ear, and Steve sitting there still a bit confused, but not adverse to the turn of events for the evening. Even if Tony just crashed on his couch when they got home, Steve would've over the moon just to spend time with him.

He was so hopelessly smitten it was embarrassing.

When they stumbled into his apartment and Steve hastily flicked on the lights while tossing his keys on the table, he heard the familiar _thump_ and pitter-patter of four little feet trotting towards the door.

Tony was kicking his shoes off when the grey and white spattered cat came padding into view, and he turned to Steve with a raised eyebrow.

"You have a cat?" he asked, which was a redundant question, of course, but Steve could hear the implied _'what the hell'_ in there somewhere. Which, Steve didn't understand in the slightest.

"Yeah, that's Peggy," Steve responded, as he shoved their shoes and coats into the closet. Peggy was now affectionately butting her head against Tony's leg, and sniffing him inquisitively while the newcomer stared down at her with an amused grin.

"Would've pegged you for a dog person," Tony told him, and Steve just shrugged. He wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Hello there," Tony said with a surprised chuckle when she started winding her way through his legs, meowing up at him.

"Sorry," Steve apologized, rubbing at the back of his neck, "she's very affectionate, I can put her in my room is she's bothering you-"

"Nonsense," Tony cut him off, a bit distracted, as he stooped down to scratch her head, to which she purred happily. She butted her head against his hand a few times, meowing at him all the while.

"Sorry," Steve apologized again, watching his cat fawn over his guest with fondness in his voice, "she's probably trying to get you to pick her up, she's probably the only cat in the world who _likes_ that, but she does this to everyone. Just ignore her and she'll…"

Steve trailed off with surprise when Tony bent down all the way and scooped the happily squirming feline up into his arms. Peggy meowed in satisfaction and nuzzled her nose into Tony's neck, settling against him as she rumbled contented purring.

He had to remind himself that it was absolutely ridiculous to get jealous of his cat for that.

Tony turned to Steve then, and just shrugged at Steve's mildly confused expression. "I like cats. Sue me."

Steve gave him warm grin. "I didn't say anything."

Tony just grunted, swayed a bit - apparently he hadn't completely sobered up yet - and made his way over to the couch like he owned the place. Not that Steve minded, in fact, it was kind of nice for Tony just to come into his house, pick up his cat and flop down on his couch like he belonged there.

"Well come on," Tony called over to Steve, who was still awkwardly standing in the doorway of _his own apartment -_ honestly, what was wrong with him - and gestured with a jerk of his chin for Steve to come there. "You wanted to watch Christmas movies, right?"

Steve crossed the room, and sank down into the couch next to him. "Yeah, but it's okay, I was just going to do that if I didn't go to the party, we don't have to…"

"Which one were you going to watch?" Tony interrupted, all the while stroking a very contented Peggy who was purring in his ear.

"It's a Wonderful Life."

"Never seen it."

"Really?"

Tony shrugged. "I'm not a billion years old. I'm a man of the future, not of the past. You on the other hand, seem like the kind of person who would watch old movies."

"Um, thanks?" Steve answered slowly, not quite sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult.

"In a good way, Rogers," Tony assured him, around a sleepy yawn. "You're all … homey. It's nice."

"Okay, Tony," Steve responded, trying not to grin. He had to remember that it was the liquor talking, and he shouldn't read into it too much.

Though, who could blame him, with Tony sitting all relaxed and soft on his couch in the middle of the night while he cuddled with his cat. He figured he'd be forgiven for enjoying this a little bit.

"Well," Tony said expectantly over a head of fur. "What are you waiting for? Put the movie on."

"Okay, Tony," Steve said again, more than happy to oblige.

It was only a few moments after the opening swell of music that Tony released Peggy from his grip and let her settle into his lap, and dropped his head onto Steve's shoulder.

Every nerve ending in Steve's body short circuited then, surprise rushing through his body as Tony scooted closer and pressed up against his side. His warmth seeped through Steve's sweater, flush against his skin. His soft breaths were fluttering lightly against his neck, sending faint jolts of electricity through his body, down to his fingertips and his toes. Tony was so close that when Steve looked down at him in disbelief, he could see each curve of Tony's eyelashes, the shadow of faint light that glanced across his cheekbone.

Steve was pretty sure he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, which was ridiculous because he wasn't a blushing teenager, but still. This was _Tony._

"Can I do this?" Tony whispered.

"Yes," Steve said quickly, too quickly probably, and he hoped not too breathlessly, and gave a firm nod. Tony smiled softly, rested a hand on Peggy's head and scratched her lightly between her ears as he turned back to the movie.

It took Steve less than two minutes to thoroughly think the situation through, decide that he may never get a change like this again, and decide _what the hell._

He shifted slightly, releasing his arm from where it was pressed between his body and Tony's, earning himself a little squawk of indignation from Tony. He very deliberately forced himself to reach that arm out to wrap it around Tony's shoulders, and tug him gently against his side. He tightened his fingers against the firm warmth of Tony's shoulder, giving him a nervous squeeze as he hugged him gently against him.

Tony was staring up at him now with a smile that Steve couldn't quite decipher, his face too close and not close enough all at the same time.

"Is this okay?" Steve asked, hoping that he was successful in masking the nervous tremble in his voice as he spoke.

Obviously, he didn't do as well as he'd hoped because he earned himself another eye roll, a fond one albeit, but an eye roll nonetheless.

Then, Steve was pretty sure he blacked out, because all of a sudden soft lips were pressed against his own, a tentative kiss brushed across his mouth. It was just chaste enough to be innocent, obviously meant to chase away any doubts Steve was having, but the fact that _Tony was kissing him_ understandably sent shivers up and down his spine.

The kiss was brief, too brief - Steve wanted more, he was sure he could never get his fill of Tony - and the kiss broke with Tony leaning away and looking up at him with a soft smile that was a mix of _you're an idiot, Steve,_ and what Steve thought was the same dazed and blissful expression on his own face.

"Oh," Steve said cleverly, and Tony laughed.

"Relax, and watch the damn movie," Tony told him, returning his head to Steve's shoulder, leaving him sitting there with what was probably a comical and dorky expression on his face because _Tony had just kissed him._

It was then, in the faint glow of the television with Tony and his ridiculous cat cuddled up against him, that he decided that maybe office Christmas parties weren't so bad after all.


	4. It's Just You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oop my hand slipped and I wrote something mildly nsfw. Beware; Tony in Christmas themed lingerie. If that’s not your thing, I wrote a superfamily blurb so you don’t have to miss out on a day. You can read that one [right here](http://pensversusswords.tumblr.com/post/104392129867/25-days-of-stony-christmas-fics-superfamily-side/).  
> P.S., This is my first time writing anything even mildly nsfw so please be gentle with me <3

Steve was pretty sure that he was hallucinating.

The thing was, it wasn't unusual for his rather eccentric, genius boyfriend to surprise him. In fact, it had gotten to the point where Steve just always expected him to surprise him at any given moment. Whether it was jumping out at him from behind a door to make him shriek like a five year old, or a spontaneous trip to Paris, Tony was quite frequent when it came to surprises. Steve had even grown to like the impulsiveness that came with being in a relationship with him, enjoying the fast pace far more than he would've thought he would.

So, he was no stranger to Tony surprises. But this. _This._

"Welcome home," Tony purred as he walked into their bedroom, voice laced with an enticing edge. Steve froze in the doorway with a "hello" dying on his lips, his fingers slack on the doorknob as he beheld the sight before him. Which was, much to Steve's complete and utter shock, rather festive looking lingerie.

A red corset hugged around Tony's torso, accentuating the slope and curves of his hip to his chest, trimmed with a thin line of white fur. Skimpy red underwear stretched over his hips and across his groin, attached to lacy garters that held up a pair of stockings, black and stretched over his legs in flimsy lace.

Nothing would have prepared him for the sight of Tony draped seductively across their bed, dressed in what was a rather … skimpy attire.

"Um," Steve squeaked. He was pretty sure his eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Got you an early Christmas present," Tony told him with a wink. "What you think?"

He gestured to himself, and Steve gulped, taking in every inch of him. He nodded, rather emphatically, and managed a "yup" that was too high and squeaky to his liking, but he couldn't really help that at this point.

Tony let out a little laugh, and stood up, beginning to cross the room to Steve. "Okay, you can't talk. That's fine, you don't really need to talk right now. Just let me do the talking. And the doing."

As Tony spoke, he sidled up alongside Steve and wrapped his hand around Steve's forearm, steering him towards the bed. "Just sit down, and enjoy, okay?"

"Okay," Steve managed to say as he lowered himself down onto the edge of the bed slowly, his eyes still roaming the sleekness of Tony's body under the material.

Tony smirked, and rested one hand lightly on his shoulder. "JARVIS?" he called, not looking away from Steve's face.

"Right away, sir," the AI responded, and then there was low music playing in the room, thankfully not tacky, just smooth and sensuous notes floating through the air.

Then Tony started to move, his hips swiveling, his lean and muscular legs braced as he bent forward, offering Steve a full view of him.

Steve was pretty sure that he was on fire at this point, and he could've sworn that he could feel the blood coursing through his veins, shimmering against every active nerve ending. Tony was standing between his legs, hips moving, the smooth expanse of his waist peeking out from beneath the corset, and Steve was just aching to brush his fingers against his skin.

"You can touch me you know," Tony murmured, as if he could tell where Steve's gaze was trained. Steve glanced up to find Tony looking down at him through his eyelashes with a small grin on his lips. 

That was all the permission Steve needed; he reached out for him, aiming for that dip in the curve of his hip, his touch sending electric jolts through him as he connected with flesh. He felt himself shiver, and was almost sure that he felt Tony tremble slightly as well.

"So, what do you think?" Tony asked again.

Steve found his voice, and said in a dry voice, "I think that it's nice to see you getting into the Christmas spirit."

Tony laughed and moved closer to him slightly. "That's all you have to say? Really? And here I thought that you would be ecstatic, over the moon, completely overjoyed…"

"There's plenty I could say," Steve admitted, his voice rough with mounting arousal. "But I'd much rather show you than tell."

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

With that he reached out with his other hand to clutch at Tony's other hip, his hands lightly resting against Tony's skin, his fingers dipped just under the fabric, the lace of the underwear scratching pleasantly against his palm. His fingers tightened, his thumb pressing into that curve of his hipbone, perfectly slotting into place.

When he saw just the briefest flicker of something akin to nervousness flicker across Tony's face, he immediately slackened his touch.

"You okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned through his haze of arousal.

"More than okay," Tony assured him, placed his hands over Steve's where they rested on his waist before he could pull them away. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Steve's mouth, slow and enticing, halfway between sensuous and chaste.

"But you looked nerv-" Steve started when they parted, not going to drop the issue until he was sure, but Tony interrupted him before he could get a sentence out.

"Not nervous, really," he explained, his breath just a light puff of air against Steve's lips, since he was still leaning in close. "Just always feel like this with you."

"Like what?"

"Hmm," Tony hummed, his eyes flickering as he searched for the word. "Anticipatory."

"That’s a big word for bedroom talk, Tony."

"Shut up," Tony said, swatting at his shoulder. "That's how I feel."

Then he stepped even closer, so that they were pressed against each other, Steve's legs bracketing his thighs, every movement of his hips sending jolts up through his groin into his core. Steve bit back something that might have been a groan, his lip tortured as he caught it between his teeth.

"This doesn't make me nervous, you know that," Tony continued, maintaining eye contact with Steve as he spoke, "it's just you. You drive me insane. I just think about you taking me apart, touching me and looking at me and…"

He ran a hand across Steve's chest, and even though there was a layer of fabric there, he shivered.

"I will never get used to doing this with you. In a good way. It's good. I love it." He leaned in and kissed Steve again, brief and soft, before pulling away to say, "and I love you."

It was with those words, and the way that Tony ground up against him at the same time, that something snapped in Steve, this feral sensation rising up in him with urgency.

"C'mere," Steve growled, his voice hungry and laced with want, and his grip tightened on Tony's waist as he pulled him forward. Tony let out a small noise of surprise at that, and suddenly he was straddled across Steve's lap. His arms braced over Steve's shoulders, and he let out small, shuddering breaths into Steve's neck.

"There we go," Tony said slyly, but it tapered off into a gasp when Steve arched up and ground against him, effectively rendering him silent.

"Oh," he breathed, and began to move his hips again, rubbing against the hardness of Steve, eliciting a throaty growl in Steve's throat. Steve returned the movement from underneath him, his palms pressed flat against his back, holding Tony securely against him as they moved in tandem, finding the perfect, burning rhythm in just moments. Tony lifted his head from Steve's neck and pressed kisses and sucked marks into his skin, making his way to finally capture Steve's lips with his own, hot and frantic compared to other kisses they'd shared so far.

They stayed like that for a while, moving against each other, kissing; all lips and tongues and whispered endearments between their mouths, until Tony broke away with a broken gasp. Steve moved his hips just so, in that way he knew drove Tony crazy, and he outwardly moaned.

"Please," Tony panted, his eyes dilated and his cheeks flushed, "need you, touch me, please…"

Steve needed no more encouragement with that; one hand moved from the dip of Tony's lower back to rest against Tony's groin, teasing his hardness with slow movements against him through the lace. Tony arched into the touch, his breath heavy and filled with want.

"Your hand, Steve, touch _me_ god damn it."

And so Steve did, finally releasing him from the cursed fabric, flesh on flesh. His cock was hot and heavy in Steve's hand as he worked the length of him, each stroke earning him delicious sounds from the man writhing in his lap. Tony groaned and arched up into the touch, his lips hot and pressed against Steve's neck.

"Good?" Steve murmured into his ear, nipping at his earlobe as he began a slow, tortuous rhythm with his hand, dragging tortured moans from Tony's throat with every movement.

"You know damn well it's good," Tony retorted, but then Steve squeezed him just so, and all semblance of heat behind his words dissipated as he made a strangled noise, panting out a breath that sounded a lot like Steve's name.

When he came, it was with nails biting into Steve's shoulders, with a gasp and a shudder that rocked through his whole body. He came over Steve's hand in a hot rush, a string of curses hot and frantic on his tongue, and somewhere in there Steve's name came out, something that the self indulgent part of Steve rather enjoyed.

He collapsed into Steve then, his arms flinging around his neck, his breath ghosting across Steve's skin as he fought for his breath. Steve could've sworn that he could feel his heart beat against his chest; a staccato beat that thumped against his ribcage.    

A few minutes later, Tony leaned back and looked at him, that familiar glint in his eyes, that grin on his lips.

"I take it you liked it then?"

Steve let out a short laugh, leaned forward to steal Tony's lips in a way that said _this is far from over._

"Yeah, Tony. I liked it."


	5. Golden

"Can I open m’ eyes yet Papa?" Peter whined, squirming on his perch on the living room couch. His impatience was obvious by the rhythmic faint thumping of his tiny feet smacking against the couch, and the way his face was all squished up in that way that kids do.

"Not yet," Steve told him firmly, "just a few more seconds Pete."

He huffed loudly, and crossed his little arms over his chest, his lips poking out in petulance. Beside him, his sister nudged him with her elbow.

"Jus’ wait Peter," Sarah told him, her voice calm and polite, but Steve could tell that she was visibly restraining her excitement by the way that she was bouncing slightly in her seat, and her hands were folded too tightly in her lap to be casual. Her eyes were still tightly shut as well, but she was almost as impatient as Peter; Steve knew his kids well. Their tells were blatantly obvious to him, and both of them were  practically radiating impatience.

Peter was just a lot more obvious about it.

"Papa," he said, his voice just a pitch lower than a pitiful whine.

"Just wait Peter," Steve sighed, "it’s worth the wait I promise. Daddy will be out in a minute."

This time it was Sarah who spoke up. “Pa can’t you go see what’s takin’ Daddy so long?” she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, Papa, please?" Peter begged, bouncing up and down as he drew out the last syllable a lot longer than it needed to be. "He’s takin’ so long."

"Okay, I’ll go see what’s taking him so long," Steve conceded. I mean, Tony had been taking a while, even though there really was no reason for him too. He might as well check.

"Keep your eyes closed," Steve warned as he backed out of the room. They both nodded fervently, and Steve headed out to the kitchen.

"Tony, all you had to do was get the dog from the car and bring him inside while I guarded the kids, what’s taking so…"

The tail end of Steve’s sentence trailed off into an amused silence when he walked into the kitchen, and saw what Tony had gotten up to.

Tony sat in the middle of the floor with his legs crossed, his hair all tousled and sticking up in random places, and his shirt was a bit rumpled. His face was bright and clearly immensely amused, enamored at that, and from his lips came that laugh that Steve knew and loved. All of this was because, squirming and wiggling in his lap, was a puppy with golden fur who was currently whining happily up at him.

Tony was looking down at the dog with the same kind of expression he’d get whenever he was proud; like when one of the kids did something that blew him away, or when he’d overlook a creation he’d just finished after days upon days in the workshop. That kind of completely in awe of how blissfully happy he was just to be in the presence of this object of his admiration, that he was lucky enough to have the privilege to have something so wonderful.

Steve was pretty sure it was one of his favourite looks on him.

"Oh," Steve said, and Tony looked up, still smiling, "I understand now why I’ve been out there for forever trying to convince our very impatient children that they have to sit tight and wait for their Christmas present. You know, like all six year olds are great at doing."

"Oops," Tony replied, which might have actually sounded repentant if he hadn’t still been grinning. It was probably really hard to feel bad about it when he had a lapful of the cutest puppy either of them had ever beheld. "Let me guess, Peter’s the one who’s being vocal about it, but Sarah is trying her hardest to pretend that she’s not about to explode?"

"And not succeeding at all," Steve confirmed with a chuckle. "But Peter has no problem expressing himself."

"Huh, I wonder where he got that from."

Steve snorted and looked down at Tony, and the puppy who was currently trying to jump up to lick Tony’s face, giving him a blank look.

"I’m 100% sure he got it from you."

Tony gave him look that was mockingly scandalized. “That, Winghead, is a complete lie.”

Steve shook his head, his lips curved up in amusement, and crouched down in front of the duo. He placed his hand on the top of the puppy’s head and scratched, which, judging by the sounds he made, he rather enjoyed it. He reached out with his other hand to cup the back of his husband’s neck, and pushed his fingers gently into the hair at the nape of his neck. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to Tony’s lips, who hummed happily.

When he ended the kiss, he leaned over to press his lips lightly to Tony’s nose for a brief moment before sitting back on his heels. Tony scrunched up his nose at that, and Steve spared a moment to wonder if he was ever going to stop melting every time Tony did that.

It had been ten years since the first time he’d made Tony do that so he knew that the answer was most definitely a firm no.

"And you, Shellhead," Steve told him, standing back up, "know that I’m right. Now come on, we have two six year olds who are dying for their gift."

When they made their way out to the living room, Tony carrying the puppy in his arms and Steve entering the room while telling the kids to open their eyes, they both reacted exactly as he’d expected.

Peter shrieked loudly, and rushed forward, his eyes bright with excitement. Tony set the dog down, and he immediately started scampering forward to meet the boy somewhere in the middle, where he was suddenly engulfed in two childlike arms. Peter kept saying “thank you,” over and over, his voice absolutely giddy with excitement.

Sarah froze completely still, her eyes going wide like saucers, and her lips parted in shock. It took her a few moments to gather her thoughts, to realize that there was a puppy in the room and it was  _completely_ hers to play with. When she did manage to come out of that state of absolute, utter shock, she gave a little cry and then she was running forward, pitching herself onto the floor at her brother’s side. The siblings and the new addition to the Stark-Rogers household yelped happily, the trio a blur of excited movements as they got to know each other. Their voiced melded with the squeaky, happy whines of the dog, becoming something that sounded something so completely overjoyed it was ridiculous.

Watching over them with a little smile on his face, he felt a kind of warm glow emanating in his chest. Contentment and happiness washed over him as he gazed down at his family, standing next to the one person he’d ever wanted to make this family with, and he just allowed himself a few moments to be completely, blissfully happy.

Tony’s hand brushed against his, and like a reflex, like something that had been written into his DNA since birth, he naturally turned his hand over so that he could tangle his fingers with Tony’s, connecting them flesh against flesh. Steve glanced over at him, saw an expression on his face that matched that light glow in his chest, and he felt that glow grow warmer. Everything was golden, everything was heat and light and warmth and happiness. Steve couldn’t have wished for anything more in that moment; this was enough. This was more than enough. 

Tony leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, shuffling into his space, leaning against Steve. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he murmured, and Steve leaned forward with a smile to lean his forehead gently against Tony’s.

"Merry Christmas." 


	6. And We Found a Family

"No you have to twist it the other way, it's all tangled up right there-"

"Oh my God Tony just _back off I know what I'm doing-"_

 _"_ You're just making it worse!"

"I am not making it worse, you're making it worse by not shutting up!"

"Now listen here, birdbrain-"

"Guys," Steve sighed, "could you just cut it out?"

Both Tony and Clint looked up from where they were struggling to untangle a mass of Christmas lights. Unfortunately for them, it turned out that when you take down the decorations from Christmas, it really is worthwhile putting things away neatly, instead of tossing them back into a box to shove into storage space. They now had very infuriating evidence of why that was a terrible idea, since Tony and Clint had spent the past thirty minutes trying to untangle it, but so far it hardly seemed like they'd made any progress. During that thirty minutes, the rest of the team had managed to make significant progress on their projects, while they sat there and struggled, squabbling the whole while.

This was how things normally ended up around Christmastime; Clint and Tony ending up bickering (nothing serious, merely good natured bantering) over something menial that really shouldn't matter, while the rest of the team shook their heads and laughed at them. No one had expected this year to be any different; but how the two of them had managed to get stuck on that job with no one else noticing, none of them knew. They'd all been too preoccupied with their own projects; Bruce had brought the tree up into the common room, a massive thing with full branches and made the whole room smell strongly of pine, Peter and Natasha had baked lopsided cookies in the shape of Santa hats and reindeer, Steve had been in charge of hot chocolate and overseeing the cookie making, while Thor had been sent out for eggnog and other assorted beverages. So Tony and Clint had ended up untangling the lights, which meant they couldn't start decorating the tree until they managed to figure it out.

"Yeah, Daddy, cut't out," Peter chirped up from his spot next to Steve on the couch, where he was perched happily in his Aunt Natasha's lap. His eyes were bright as he grinned across the room at his father, that mischievous, shit eating grin that reminded Steve so much of Tony that it ached.

"You, little man," Tony said whilst pointing an accusing finger at their son, "are not allowed to say anything unless you're going to help."

"He has been helping," Bruce interjected lightly. "He baked cookies for us."

He was curled up in a huge chair in the corner of the room, hands wrapped around his favourite mug, the one Tony had gotten him as a gag gift with a caricature of the two of them blowing something up in one of their labs, with a corny science related joke emblazoned on the side. It'd been a joke, but Bruce used it religiously. Tony pretended it was funny, but Steve knew that he appreciated that Bruce liked the gift more than he would ever admit.  

"Yeah, Daddy, me 'n Tasha made cookies. I even made you one special," Peter told him happily, squirming in Natasha's lap. Natasha had her chin resting on his forehead, a tiny grin on her face, while Peter leaned back comfortable against her chest, fitting perfectly in the circle of her arms.

It was no secret that the five year old adored the entire team, but he didn't need to say it for everyone to know that Natasha ended up being his favourite. Natasha adored him back though, softer with him than she was with the rest of the team, but endlessly patient and never talked down to him. The way she seemed to address the subject of children was to treat them as tiny adults who needed a bit more reassurance and attention. Even when Peter was a baby, she never used silly voices with him, but she was always willing to build a fort with him or make him lunch whenever he toddled off to find her.

Steve would never not find the pair of them unbearably cute, especially now with the way that Natasha was leaning her head over Peter's, the stark redness of her hair a sharp contrast against Peter's darker hair.

These were the kinds of things that Steve always made sure to commit to memory; the way the soft notes of Christmas music filled the air, the content smile on Natasha's face, the happy grin on Peter's, the quiet amusement emanating from Bruce in his chair, and the way that Clint rolled his eyes at the whole situation, but still managed the a look of complete amusement.

And of course, Tony, sitting on the floor with that determined expression on his face, his eyes lit up with warmth and happiness. Steve loved when he looked like this, just relaxed and happy, his smile unguarded and content. He just loved all of it.

All of these things, Steve would never had imagined he would ever have when he woke up from the ice eight years ago.

All of these things, he was eternally grateful for.

"You didn't make me one special," Natasha said, her voice teasingly serious and disappointed, and Peter twisted around and looked up at her with dismay.

"Bu' you helped me!"

"I'm teasing, маленький," she told him gently, and Peter relaxed visibly. (trans; _little one_ )

"Хорошо," Peter murmured, and huddled back into her arms, resting his palms against her hands where they held him against her. (trans; _okay_ ) 

"You know, perhaps he could help by putting the decorations on the tree, if you ever manage to untangle that mess," Steve told Tony with a raised eyebrow, only half listening to Natasha and Peter next to him, looking at them appraisingly over the rim of his mug as he lifted it to his lips to sip at his hot chocolate. 

Tony grimaced and made a face at his husband, his nose all scrunched up and his brows drawn together. "If you think it's so easy, come do it yourself."

"Why didn't you ask sooner?" Steve asked with an affectionate roll of his eyes, and he set his mug down on the table next to him.

"'Cause I can do it myself, but by all means, if you think you're better suited for the task, go right ahead," Tony smirked up at him as he crossed the room and flopped down next to him. Reflexively, like a well oiled machine, Tony scooted in close to him and dropped his head onto Steve's shoulder, humming in contentment when Steve leaned over to brush a soft kiss across his temple. Warm flesh and a steady pulse under his lips for a few moments, Steve reveled in the natural closeness between them, Tony warm and firm next to him, before he dutifully turned to his appointed task.

 Steve batted his and Clint's hands away from the jumbled mess in front of them, and with a sigh began to work.

"God, Tony you two made it worse."

"We did _not_ ," both Tony and Clint responded indignantly.

"You really did," Steve said mournfully, and just picked up the whole bundle of lights, to emphasize his statement. At this point, it was really just a huge ball of cords with tiny lights peeking through. Steve had no idea how he was going to do this.

"We untangled some of it," Tony insisted, peering over at the horror that Steve was holding, "it was worse before."

"Sure it was, Tony," Steve responded dryly, turning it this way and that to try and see where the end was; probably with their luck, it was in the middle of the tangled ball and they would never set it free.

"Well then, use those magic fingers of yours and get it done already," Tony said into his ear, but still loud enough for everyone to hear it.

Clint gagged loudly, and immediately shot to his feet, taking Steve's spot next to Natasha and Peter, who were talking about something that was making Peter giggle happily. Of course, no one else understood them, because they spoke in Russian, their voices lost in the sharp corners of the language that was foreign to all of them. Bruce just rolled his eyes. Steve fought the urge to do so as well, and couldn't quite manage to stop an amused grin from spreading across his face.   

"You're ridiculous," he told Tony fondly, who just hunched one shoulder up unapologetically.

"Perhaps," Tony admitted, "it's a good thing you like it."

"I do," Steve murmured, and bent down to kiss Tony's cheek. In a pure Tony-like fashion, before he could pull away, he was leaning into Steve and stealing his lips in a kiss.

"You know, if you two are gonna be gross, you're gonna have to go into another room," Clint barked from the couch.

"Yuck," Peter agreed, but Steve wasn't too concerned. They could look away if they didn't want to see him kiss his husband.

"I can kiss," Tony said when he leaned away, then ducked back in for another quick kiss to Steve's lips before continuing, "my personal super soldier any time I like, Barton. Perks of being married to Captain America."

All the same, he just leaned forward to press one last kiss to Steve's lips before leaning back with a tiny smile, one that just flicked at the corner of his lips; not quite noticeable unless, like Steve, you were always looking for it.

Tony leaned his head back down against Steve's shoulder, and reached down to trail his fingers down along his arm, until limb became hand, and he was tangling their fingers together, palm against palm.

Steve smiled and gave his hand a little squeeze. "You know, I'm going need this if I'm going to do this for you," Steve told him pointedly.

"Nonsense," Tony countered, not releasing his hand, "you'll have to figure something else out."

Steve had just opened his mouth to respond to him, when a large presence entered the room, a door smashing into the wall was an announcement of the final Avenger's presence.

"I have brought the eggnog, as you asked," Thor announced as he strode into the room, his arms laden with far, far more than he had been asked to purchase.

"Thor, what the hell, why did you get that much," Clint demanded as he vaulted over the back of the couch and made for Thor, grabbing a jug and screwing it open to take a swig.

"Language, Clint. Peter's here," Tony grumbled from his spot on Steve's shoulder, frowning, at the same time that Thor asked with a confused and concerned expression, "Did I not purchase enough?"

"C'mon Daddy," Peter whined, "I heard that word b'fore."

"That's not exactly comforting," Tony began, but Natasha was standing up then, swinging Peter down to the floor and letting him take her hand.

" подойди, Peter," Natasha said, tugging him along, "let's go check on the cookies." (trans; _come on_ )

"You know, I'm still not pleased about you teaching my child Russian, Natasha," Tony called out.

Natasha didn't respond; it was Peter who answered.

" Это слишком поздно, Daddy," Peter called back, and then they were gone, with Peter talking excitedly to Natasha along the way. (trans; _It's too late)_

Then, in the background, Bruce was assuring Thor that he got just the right amount, and Clint was refuting that, because it _really_ was too much, there was no way they were going to drink it all. Steve and Tony were sitting there, curled together, talking quietly under their breath as Steve attempted to work his way through the mess of Christmas light. Tony was warm and firm against him, his breath gentle when he spoke and small puffs drifted across his neck. They settled there together, leaning into each other's space, overlapping and melting into each other with the casual ease that came with years of marriage and being surrounded by their family.

The background noise washed over them and they faded into soft conversation, contentment warm and sweet on both of their faces.It was a while before they managed to get the lights untangled - after insisting that Steve was doing it wrong, Tony just _had_ to jump in and lend his assistance - and arrange them evenly on the tree in a way that they all agreed on. Really, they shouldn't have bothered putting the lights on so meticulously, considering that once they managed to get all of the decorations on the tree, it was such a completely disorganized mess that it wouldn't have mattered if the lights were askew.

None of them cared, it was their tree and it was beautiful.

After the last bauble had been attached to its branch, and they had all settled down in chairs to drink eggnog and eat Natasha and Peter's - admittedly, delicious - cookies, Peter spoke up from where he was leaning against Tony's side, with Steve's arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"Papa?"

"Mmm," Steve hummed, looking down at Peter.

"We didn't put the star up."

Steve glanced over at the tree, which was, in fact, starless.

"You're right," Steve told him, and craned his neck to look around the room. "Anyone know where it is?"

"Right here," Bruce said, leaning from his seat to pick up the faintly glowing white star from where it sat underneath a pile of garland on the floor. He started to stand up, as if to make his way over to pass it to Clint who was sitting next to the tree, but then, something seemed to occur to him, and he turned to Peter.

"You wanna put it up?" he asked, and Peter's face lit up."Me?" he asked, his voice surprised and a little excited. "Bu' I can't reach."

"Thor can lift you up, right Thor?" Bruce turned to Thor then, who immediately burst into a smile and looked at Peter.

"Aye, of course," Thor told him, and rose to his feet.

"Y'sure?" Peter said tentatively, and both Thor and Bruce nodded emphatically.

"Of course," Bruce said, and held out the star towards him.

Peter looked up at Steve questioningly, who just smiled and nodded at him, and he immediately grinned excitedly. He ducked out from under Steve's arm and launched himself off of the couch, making a beeline for Bruce.

Bruce chuckled a bit at Peter's enthusiasm, and handed it over. "Be careful with it," he warned.

"I will," Peter said with earnest, wide eyes staring back up at him. Bruce nodded, and then Peter was excitedly padding over to Thor, who was waiting for him by the tree.

"Are you ready, young one?" Thor asked. Peter nodded, and then he was being swooped up into the air with a happy squeal.

Tony had shifted over to take Peter's spot next to Steve when he'd gotten up, and was leaning against him once again. Steve was holding his left hand in his, firm and gentle, his finger tracing over the thin band on his finger. It was a habit of his, Steve knew, but he couldn't help doing it. Especially when he was happy like this. Tony was warm and soft against his side, and he had his feet propped up in Natasha's lap. She had her hands resting lightly on his shins, her face creased in a barely there smile as she watched Peter place the star on top of the tree, and saw the way that he beamed when Bruce and Clint clapped as he was being lowered to the floor. Steve could remember a time when an action like that would not even be thought of, for fear of Natasha jabbing them in a neck with a knife, but now it was just easy. They all did this, leaning on each other, taking up more room than necessary, easy comfort passed between them like it had always been there.

Somewhere along the line, between saving the world nearly dying every time, they became a family.

Steve felt Tony squeeze his hand, and he looked down to see him giving him a knowing grin, as if he could tell what Steve was thinking, the grateful happiness that was blooming in his chest. Tony could always tell, just by the quirk of his brow, or a pursing of his lips, when something was on his mind.

"Me too," he murmured, staring at Steve with those deep brown eyes, like liquid gold melting into coffee. He gave him a half smile, and kissed the underside of Steve's jaw.

Steve let go of his hand to wrap an arm around him and pull him close, and pressed a kiss into his hair, breathing in everything that was Tony.

"I love you," Steve said against his hair, and he could feel a chuckle rumble in Tony's chest.

"I love you, too, idiot," he responded. He leaned in closer and Steve took him in, as he always would. They sat together, entwined and fitting together like two puzzle pieces, watching their family take on the holiday season once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know Russian. This is google translate's work, so feel free to correct me.


	7. But Neither of Us Cared

**.**

"I can't believe you're making me do this, Rogers," Tony grumbled, and was dismayed when in response, Steve just flicked flour in his general direction.

Tony made a strange squawking noise and glared at him, for a moment debating just grabbing the bag of flour and tossing it over Steve's head. But Steve was looking at him with those eyes that seemed to just go right through him, so he managed to restrain himself. For now.   

"Come on, Tony, it's not that bad," he said from his spot beside the kitchen counter, leaning back as he stirred something in a rather large bowl. He was smiling at Tony with an expression that was bordering on amusement, his blue eyes assessing him with careful certainty.

Between that, and the way Steve's arms flexed every time he stirred the spoon around the bowl, unintentionally giving Tony first row seats to the gun show, Tony was having a hard time keeping it together. He just looked so damn perfect over there, with his golden head tilted slightly to one side, brows raised ever so slightly as he looked at Tony, the way his shirt was rucked up above the dip of his waist, showing off a thin sliver of skin that Tony most definitely should not have been so tempted to reach out and touch.

This maddening infatuation Tony had with Steve was getting a little bit out of hand.

"You did agree to help me," Steve pointed out, emphasizing the fact with a wave of the spatula in his hand.

"I was half asleep when you asked me!" Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. Steve just shook his head and shot Tony a look, a _as much as you complain, I know you wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be_ look.

It probably should've concerned Tony that he was able to decipher that look so easily.

Eventually, gave in and reached two hands out to Steve. "Okay, give me something to do."

Steve grinned at him, and stepped forward to place the bowl he was stirring in his hands. "You keep stirring this while I get everything ready for them to go into the oven."

"Aye, aye Cap'n." Tony saluted sloppily, and he could practically hear Steve inwardly groan at his poor execution.

He didn't say anything though, just grinned at him good-naturedly and turned to one of the cupboards to pull out a baking sheet, while Tony took a seat at the island in the middle of the kitchen to get started on his appointed task.

If there was anything that made being in the kitchen baking cookies worth it, it would probably be the eyeful he got then of Captain America's rather magnificent ass.

But _that_ wasn't a road he wanted to go down at this particular moment.

"So uh," he said carefully as he stirred the lumpy mass in front of him, "what are we doing this for again?"

"Animal shelter," Steve answered, just as get bent over to reach for something on a bottom shelf, his 'laundry day' shirt hitching up again to reveal a smooth expanse of his back. This really wasn't fair at all, and Tony was starting to think that he was going to have to just go get a blindfold so that he could manage to stay sane with his hands to himself.

But then, that got him thinking about even _more_ inappropriate things than just running his hands across the paleness of Steve's lower back, so he had to abort that train of thought pretty quickly.

He had to clear his throat before he spoke again, making sure that his voice sounded casual and not like he was staring at Steve with every intention of devouring whole.

"We're making cookies for the animal shelter? Are these dog biscuits or something, cause I definitely tasted some of the batter earlier."

"No Tony," Steve told him, with a tiny glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "They're Christmas cookies for the volunteers who are sticking around to take care of things during the holiday."

"Aren't you one of those people?" Tony asked. He was still a little in awe of the amount of time Steve put in down at the nearby animal shelter, on top of being a SHIELD agent and an Avenger whenever aliens decided it would be nice to attack New York again. He was there at least twice a week, and Tony knew that because Steve sent him several picture of him holding some adorable creature that just thought Steve was the most wonderful thing in the world.

Tony would never admit out loud to anyone that he kept those on his phone.

But Steve had even planned on going in to help out right up until Christmas Eve, and Tony just couldn't figure it out, because Steve was actually _happy_ to do it. Really, genuinely happy.

Because of course, not only did Captain America have an ass you could bounce dimes off of, and bed head that made his golden hair fall across his forehead in a way that could only be described as adorable, he had a fucking heart of gold as well.

It was just Tony's luck that he was so hopelessly smitten with Steve that while in the room with him (and while he was nowhere near him, if he were being honest), he was caught in an eternal circle of wanting to kiss Steve until he was breathless and needy, and smiling softly because he really, really thought he was the sweetest thing in existence.

Yeah, he was screwed.

"Yes, I am one of those people," Steve confirmed, and the baking sheet clattered against the stove as he turned to Tony. "Bring that here, it's probably ready to go in now."

Tony hopped off of his chair, bowl in hand, and shuffled over to Steve. "You know, you could've just bought some of these. That's the great thing about the future, everything is programmed for convenience, you could've just picked these up on the way there and you wouldn't have had to even come into the kitchen."

Steve glanced at Tony then, who was leaning against the stove, arms crossed over his chest.

"This is nicer," he said with a smile that was too close to being sad for Tony's liking, and shrugged one shoulder up. "It just feels right. Like what Christmas is supposed to feel like."

Tony doesn't answer that, he just sidled up next to Steve and helped him cut Christmas themed shapes into the dough, not uttering a word more of complaint, resolving to keep himself under control.

It was only twenty minutes later when that went out the window.

Really, Tony was certain that Steve held at least half of the blame. _He_ was the one who turned around too fast while they were cleaning, _he_ was the one who was holding that bag of flour, and _he_ was the one who caused Tony to be wearing half of that bag of flour all over his head and shoulders.

Steve just looked at him stone faced except for the fact that his eyes were a little wide in surprise. He just stared at Tony for a long, stunned moment, while Tony just stood there and blinked at him.

Then, the corner of Steve's mouth twitched, and a moment later he was laughing.

"This is not funny, Steve," Tony growled, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"You look ridiculous."

"Well that’s probably because you just poured flour all over my head!"

"I did _not_ pour it on your head, you ran into me…"

"I'd say that's a good point, but considering I'm the one covered in flour, I think we can safely say that I'm the victim here."

Steve grinned at him, with a small smirk that Tony refused to think was adorable at that moment. Well, he tried. He didn't quite succeed, but really, what had he been expecting. Steve was giving off those golden boy vibes, all the while looking so completely and utterly smug that Tony could hardly stand it.

What happened next occurred in three steps.

First; Tony found himself reaching out for the bag of flour that Steve was still holding, and grabbed a massive handful, which he proceeded to plop onto Steve's head.

Second; Steve paused only for a short second, flour fluttering down to cover the shoulders of his shirt, before he was lunging forward and wrapping one arm around Tony's waist, the other outstretched above him to pour the entire bag over an indignantly shouting Tony.

Thirdly; Tony struggled and squirmed around as he was subjected to Steve's counter attack, twisting and struggling to get out of Steve's rock solid grip, but the only thing he managed to do was knock Steve's feet out from under him, sending both of them into a heap on the floor.

They ended up with Tony flat on his back, his legs sprawled out awkwardly, with Steve laying over him with his forearms braced on either side of his head.

Tony blamed the proximity between them, and the rush of affection he felt for a flour covered Steve hovering over him, for what he did next.

Without even thinking, he went from staring up at Steve's smirk and the crinkle in the corner of his laughing eyes, to leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Brief and firm, he tasted Steve's lips for only a split second before he drew away.

"Shit," Tony murmured, because Steve was looking down at him in complete shock, astonishment written into his feature, his lips parted slightly to let out a shocked puff of air. He didn't say anything, and that was making this situation worse.

"Shit," Tony said again, and started struggling to get up, "I fucked up, I'm sorry, I crossed a line, we can forget about it okay? It's not even-"

"Tony," Steve said plainly, and he snapped his mouth shut. Steve seemed to be getting his bearings back again, and he was looking at Tony with eyes that burned into him like flame. Tony squirmed under that gaze, wanting to look away, but not quite able to.

Then Steve was leaning forward, and Tony's mind blanked.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked, his voice pitched an octave too high, two frantic, because seriously, _what was Steve doing._

Steve shook his head, and lifted a hand to cup around the back of Tony's neck, holding him steady. He stopped advancing towards him, hovering just a breath away from his lips, so close that Tony could feel his soft breath against his skin. He paused there, eyes searching Tony's as if he were giving him an opportunity to pull away, but Tony didn't move. He was pretty sure he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Then, Steve leaned forward the rest of the way, and covered Tony's mouth with his own.

Tony wasn't proud of the surprised noise that he emitted from somewhere deep inside of him, something so laced with contentedness and want that it probably should've been humiliating, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just surged up, wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and gave back into the kiss everything Steve was giving him.

It wasn't long before the chaste kiss turned into something a little more urgent with the way that Steve's hands curled into his hair, the way that Tony gripped at his shoulders, fingers digging into him as he kissed him with all he had in him. Lips parted, and then there was Steve's tongue, warm and gentle in his mouth, exactly where he wanted it to be.

Steve's lips were soft and firm against his, and Tony could've sworn that he could taste a hint of cinnamon on him.

Tony drank his fill, and he was sure he would never get enough.

He didn't know how long they lay there, entwined and languidly kissing each other, when they were finally broken apart by the sound of someone loudly saying; "If you two hormonal teenagers don’t get your asses off the floor and stop sucking face, you're going to burn whatever it is you have in the oven."

They broke away at the sound of Clint's voice, both laughing quietly under their breath. Both of them were too lost in each other to even think about being embarrassed about being caught, and Steve just pressed another quick kiss to Tony's red bitten lips before helping him to his feet.

The cookies burned, but neither of them cared in the slightest.


	8. I'd Never Get Tired of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because sleepy, naked cuddles are the best cuddles. I'm really happy with this one, so I really hope you all enjoy!

Tony woke up on Christmas Eve with the sun rising warm and gentle at his back, and firm, gentle fingers carding through his hair.

Nowadays, Tony was rather used to waking up like this, his entire body curled up with a warm, solid body at his back. But at first, when he’d wake like this, with Steve’s body plastered against him and his breath gently ghosting across his skin, he’d feel a moment of complete surprise and something close to panic building hot and steady in his chest.

He’d just never been so  _close_ to anyone before, not like this. There was just something so profoundly intimate about falling asleep in the circle of someone’s arms, and to wake up to find that they hadn’t gotten up and left during the night, that they were there and had no intention of leaving.

That they wanted to wake up next to you as much as you did.

 

It turned out that it was absolutely necessary for Tony to get used to the cuddling (he only pretended to hate it, and Steve humored him, but he couldn’t have minded less) because Steve was an aggressive cuddler. Tony had never met someone who just genuinely loved being that close to someone, bare skin pressed against another body, falling asleep to the sound of someone’s heartbeat steady and strong against in their ear. The first time they’d slept together, and Tony had rolled off of Steve, both of them breathing heavy breaths and their bodies lax and sated, he’d almost flinched in surprise to feel Steve rest a hand gently on the curve of his hip. He’d stiffened, his whole body taut with something like fear running electric through his veins.

Steve had obviously noticed, and didn’t move an inch, just stayed there with his hand lightly resting against his waist, touch gentle enough that Tony could roll away and break contact. The touch was undemanding, intimate. Not a request, but a suggestion.

They had been silent for probably longer than Tony would’ve thought Steve would find normal, and Tony just waited for him to lose his patience with how emotionally stunted he was, and just get up and leave.

But he didn’t, and it wasn’t until Tony’s body had loosened into a more relaxed state, his tensed shoulders falling from their reflexively hunched shape, his breath even and steady.

Still an arm’s length away, not coming any closer, not pushing Tony any further than he was comfortable with, Steve finally spoke.

"You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you’ll let me, I would love to hold you."

His voice had been rough with the aftermath of sex, his tone dipped into a lower register that was both reminiscent of minutes before when he’d been buried deep inside of Tony with heavy breath on his tongue. At the same time, though, his voice was soft. Gentle. Sweetly hopeful, and Tony could practically hear what Steve was trying to say without actually saying it.

_I want you all of you, Tony._

He’d told Tony as much, before they’d fallen into bed together in a cloud of desire, that he wanted  _Tony_ and not just sex.

It wasn’t the easiest thing he’d ever done, but after a long deliberation during which Steve lay perfectly still and patient, he’d decided to believe him.

He’d rolled over with a small smile on his lips, and he hoped that Steve wasn’t able to notice how nervous this made him. Letting himself be intimate with Steve, knowing how easily it could be taken from him, how much it would hurt if he had it and then lost it.

Steve hadn’t said anything though, he’d just looked at Tony with those carefully searching eyes, hooded and soft in the faint light of the arc reactor. It wasn’t until Tony audible said “yes,” that Steve gave him a soft smile and pulled him close.

He’d moved slowly, as though Tony could easily be frightened, and as much as he’d ached to scoff at it and insist that he was fine, he appreciated it. Steve gave him a wide berth to wriggle out of his reach, and Tony had thought without a doubt in his mind that if he’d showed any sign of discomfort, he would’ve backed away immediately. Steve knew how he was about intimacy, and Tony knew enough about the man to know that he would not forget about it.

Blood still humming with the anticipation of Steve’s arms around him, he stayed perfectly still, letting Steve come to him. The first movement Steve made when he lay nose to nose with him, was to remove his hand from where he laid on his hip - Tony had been surprised to feel its absence so fiercely when it was gone - and slowly curled his arm around his shoulders. That first touch was soft and loose, as if he was still expecting Tony to pull away and return to his own bed. His eyes never left Tony’s, watching him intently and silently.

That first touch did something to him; purely non sexual but it somehow was more thrilling than any way he’d been touched before. It was intimate in a way that made him feel cherished, made him feel something warm and blossoming in his chest that told him that he was cared for and precious to someone. Steve had been looking at him like he was the only thing he ever wanted to look at, and he’d known it was probably foolish of him but a part of him ached to believe it.

Then, he’d just kind of melted into Steve, huddling in close and burying his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, inhaling the faint scent of his skin, letting the warmth of Steve’s body wash over him. He’d went pliant and soft against him, and he thought that maybe he should feel ashamed of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Once Steve realized that he suddenly wanted to be held as much as he wanted to hold him, both arms were tight around him, gentle and yet secure. His ankle curved around Tony’s, his face was buried in his hair, and Tony could feel his breath skirt across his scalp. They were pressed as close as they could be, connected head to toe by bare flesh, their heartbeats shuddering against each other’s chests, their breath slowing to flow in sync. Every shred of anxiety was gone, because he was in Steve’s arms, and he knew he belonged there.

Yeah, since then Tony was impervious to Steve cuddles. He didn’t have to say it out loud for Steve to know that he loved it just as much as he did.

So when he woke up that morning with Steve pressed against the length of his body, he did not feel even the slightest prickle of fear; just the steady warmth of contentment.

He hummed low in his throat to show his approval of being petted, and at the announcement that he was awake, Steve let out a soft, breathy laugh and pressed a kiss into his hair. “Mornin’ sunshine,” he murmured, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"Sap," he accused, and just felt Steve shrug his shoulders unapologetically. Well, to be fair, its not like he was complaining.

He yawned, stretched out lazily, in that way that Steve said made him resemble a cat, and rolled over to face him.

Tony may have gotten used to the excessive cuddling, but he would never get used to waking up to Steve’s face golden in the morning sun; hair caught fire with the soft rays of sunlight, his blue eyes smouldering softly in the early morning light. It was worth waking up early for, once in a while.

"Morning," Tony murmured back, and leaned in to brush a soft kiss across Steve’s lips, morning breath be damned. Steve definitely didn’t mind, judging by the way he smiled happily against his mouth as he kissed back and made a quiet noise of contentment.

"Happy Christmas Eve," he said when Tony drew away, his favourite dorky smile lingering in the corners of his mouth, his eyes bright as they lay nose to nose.

Tony smiled back and slung and arm around his neck. “To you too. I still haven’t forgiven you for bringing all of the holiday spirit into our home, you know. All this festivity is ruining my reputation.”

This time, it was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes fondly. “And what reputation do you think that it’s ruining?”

"My brooding, complicated billionaire persona. You took it down at least three notches when you insisted on the Christmas lights on the tower," he grumbled.

"They’re festive," Steve insisted, and Tony just gave him  _the look._

"They are tacky, Steve, and you know it."

"Maybe," he admitted slowly, "but festive anyways. I think it’s nice."

"Of course you do," Tony snorted and shook his head, "you’re practically the embodiment of Christmas spirit."

Steve grinned and leaned a fraction of an inch closer to bump his nose against Tony’s. “You love it.”

Steve blinked slowly, and his eyelashes fluttered long and fair against his skin, and Tony kind of forgot himself for a moment. “I really do,” he whispered.

What he really meant though, was  _I love you._

That grin still stupidly wide across Steve’s face, his eyes knowing and lovingly gazing back at him, he ducked in to kiss Tony again. He fell into the embrace happily, kissing him back. Steve gave Tony all he had, and Tony selfishly took it all, and gave back just as much, just as fiercely.

They’d gotten kissing down to an art form, and Tony was damn sure he’d never be tired of it.

Then, the sound of scratching against the door and a pitiful whine broke them apart, both of them groaning.

"How does he always know when we’re up," Steve marvelled, collapsing down against Tony as if he was physically repulsed at the fact that he’d have to get out of bed.

"I’m almost fairly certain he has super senses of some sort," Tony yawned, and settled back into the covers, a clear  _you get the door, I got it last time._ Steve groaned again, and Tony grin, stretching again. “Remind me to get that checked out. Having a dog with super powers could be either a pain in the ass or insanely awesome. Probably awesome. I hope he has super powers.”

"He already is a pain in the ass," Steve grouched, but he was grinning and it was affectionate. He sat up with a sigh, and Tony allowed himself to enjoy the view of a naked super soldier crossing the room in his skivvies, the smooth expanse of his pale skin unperturbed by the nuisance of clothing. Wasn’t he lucky to have that sight all to himself. He almost thought he should feel bad for depriving the rest of the world of that view.

Then his eyes settled on the dip where Steve’s spine curved into his lower back, the faint indent there that he knew his hand fit perfectly into, and he didn’t feel guilty at all. He was selfish and he didn’t care a bit.

His eyes fluttered shut as he fought a wave of sleepiness, and Steve opened the door of their bedroom. He was greeted with a happy bark and just before he closed his eyes, Tony saw a flash of gold fur vaulting across the room, the familiar click-click of nails against the floor.

"Tony?" Steve said his name with his the barest hint of a confused question, just as the weight of their overzealous golden retriever sank into the bed next to him.

"Mmm?" Tony responded. A wet nose nuzzled against his cheek and he scrunched his face up.

"Did you…" Steve paused, a laugh hidden somewhere in his voice that Tony didn’t miss, "did you put a Christmas sweater on Frodo?"

Tony’s eyes flashed open at that, coming face to face with a panting mouth, and yes, damn. Frodo was still wearing the sweater he’d put on him last night; bright red and obnoxious, with rows of reindeer emblazoned in between rows of snowflakes. It was tacky and awful, but when Tony saw it he’d immediately pictured Frodo wearing it and he’d been absolutely powerless. The end result was even cuter than he’d imagined, and he’d just about melted at the sight.

Not missing a beat, he scoffed. “Of course I didn’t, it was probably Natasha.”

Steve was standing over the bed now, lifting the covers to slide back in, much to Frodo’s delight, who shuffled forward to nudge his head under his hand. Steve idly scratched between his ears, and looked at Tony appraisingly.

"Natasha’s on a mission."

"Clint, then."

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You think Clint didn’t go for back up?”

Tony fought the urge to groan loudly. “It was probably Thor, he eats that Christmas shit up.”

Steve just looked at him with that smile that was equal parts exasperated and affectionate, and shook his head. “Honey, Thor’s in Asgard, and we both know Frodo makes Bruce nervous, and Coulson hasn’t been here in a week.” Then he was grinning stupidly again, his whole face lighting up. Tony wanted to throw a pillow at his face.

"Someone must’ve broken in then," Tony countered, but it was half hearted. There was no getting out of this and he knew it.

"Mhmm." Steve nodded in mock seriousness, his eyes sparkling as they gazed at Tony. "Sure, Tony."

Then he scooted down under the covers, and Frodo barked happily again, snuggling in close between them, and Tony unconsciously found his hand roaming to stroke his soft fur.

He was so screwed. Reputation was so far out the window that he didn’t even know if he could find it even if we wanted to. Hell, right now, he was the embodiment of domestic. Domestic. Him. How could this have happened.

Steve leaned over the dog who was happily thumping his tail against the covers, and pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s forehead. Tony frowned at him grumpily, but Steve’s eyes were laughing and Tony knew that Steve could tell it was completely without heat. He settled down so that they were staring at each other across the expanse of pillows, both of them running their hands over Frodo’s fur.

"You love Christmas just as much as I do," Steve murmured happily, and Tony thought briefly that if Steve had a tail, it would be wagging even more than Frodo’s was right now.

Tony didn’t answer, but just glared at him blandly while he scratched Frodo. He knew Steve could see past the façade, but he wasn’t going to say anything out loud.

If he were going to say anything out loud, that it wasn’t Christmas he loved, it was this. Waking up to blue eyes that loved him, and a dog that he shared with the one person who he thought might resemble the sun. This was what he loved, every part of it.

Perhaps he could get used to it, but he was certain that he would never get tired of it. 


	9. My Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man I had fun with this one. I was practically cackling the whole time I wrote it. Enjoy!

See, at the time, it had seemed like a really good idea.

Perhaps that should have been the first clue; generally, as a rule, when Tony had ideas that he considered to be good, afterwards it would always turn out that he should've carefully thought it through before acting. He had a problem though, he was too impulsive and reckless, and that’s why he had Pepper on speed dial.

That being said, he'd thought that he could manage putting the damn Christmas lights on the house, and yet here he was, stuck on the roof.

Clearly, his judgement hadn't been the best.

Really, he'd just wanted to surprise Steve, who woke him up that morning with a plate full of pancakes and a warm hug that radiated down to his bones before he herded the kids out the door to take them to school. Tony had waved to them at the window with a blanket slung over his shoulders and mug of coffee in his hands like he always did, unashamed of how much he adored seeing little Sarah and Peter poking their head up to see over the windowsill to wave back to him. Steve waved too with that golden smile and his hair tousled and perfectly delicious, and Tony had just felt this… warmth blooming deep in his gut. He'd just had this staggering moment of absolute contentedness and happiness thrumming through him, complete love and adoration for his family.

Of course, with that in mind, he'd wanted to do something nice for them.

So he'd bundled up, dragged the boxes of Christmas lights upstairs from their hiding spot in the basement, and had clambered up the ladder he found in the shed, completely determined to surprise Steve and the kids when they came home.  

It had all been going according to plan, until Tony had clasped the last string of lights along the edge of the roof, and had scooted over to the  ladder to begin climbing down.

Then, because he had the best luck of anyone in the entire universe, his foot slipped, he nicked the top of the ladder with his toe, and with his mouth agape in horror, he watched the ladder slowly careen to the ground.

Which really, was so fantastic.

After realizing his phone was on the kitchen counter, it took about an hour of Tony calculating every single conceivable escape route, peering hopelessly over the edge and wondering if there was enough snow on the ground to cushion his fall if he dropped, before he realized he was well and truly, screwed.

So, he'd settled down to wait, knowing Steve would be home in a couple hours, and thanked whichever entity was controlling his fate for making him at least wear his warm coat. There was that, at least.

It was three hours later, when he finally heard the familiar sound of a car crunching the thin layer of snow on the driveway, and he felt relief wash over him because he knew that that sound brought with it Steve.

Frozen, literally with chattering teeth and his whole body trembling, he struggled to stand, being mindful that he didn't slip off the roof in the process. When he stood, he could see Steve's blonde head ducking out of the car, slam the door shut, and begin making his way to the front door.

Before Tony could say anything, he saw the exact moment Steve noticed the ladder shining silver against the snow of their front yard, and he frowned, probably thinking something along the lines of _I definitely didn't leave that there this morning._

Tony tried unsuccessfully to stop his teeth from chattering long enough to call out to him.

"Hey, honey," he said, his voice shaky, accented by the loud clattering of his teeth, "would… you mind… giving me a hand here?"

Steve's head shot up, still frowning in confusion, but when he caught sight of Tony standing pitifully up on the roof, his face slackened into complete surprise.

"Tony?" he demanded, and Tony just shrugged sheepishly.

"Oh my god, Tony," Steve exclaimed, and yeah, that was definitely Steve Panic he heard; he could practically see the mother hen in him appear and settle over him in a cloud of worry. Tony would've said something to him as he bolted forward to grab the ladder, something to diffuse the look of concern on his face, but really. He was shivering on the roof. Nothing was going to calm Steve down now.

"Are you okay? Oh my god Tony, how long have you been up there? Why didn't you call me? Oh my goodness you look frozen, what the hell were you doing?"

As Steve stumbled over question after question, leaving no room for breath in between, he was scrambling to push the ladder up against the side of the house, and didn't give Tony the chance to say anything before he was climbing up, still rattling off concerned questions.

Tony almost chuckled when Steve's head popped up over the edge of the roof, his hair all mussed and his bright eyes wide and concerned, looking so ridiculous and earnest that it made Tony's heart swell up.

But, well. He was half frozen and shivering so much that his teeth were slamming together uncomfortably, so he didn't laugh. Hell, he could barely speak. He could feel his teeth clacking together at the base of his skull.

Then Steve was vaulting himself onto the roof, wrapping him in his arms tightly, and Tony was completely enveloped in heavy, comforting warmth. No more questions, just solid arms tight around him.

He breathed out a long, wavering sigh of relief, and buried his face in Steve's neck. He didn’t even flinch with the undoubtedly cold touch of Tony's nose met the crook of his neck, he just hugged him tighter and pressed his face into the top of Tony's hair.

Tony was pretty much melting, but that only lasted a few moments before Steve said; "We have to get you down right now."

The groan Tony emitted completely disapproved of that idea. Getting down meant Steve letting go.

Or so he thought, until Steve swung him carefully into his arms, holding him close against his chest with one arm hooked under his knees, the other braced against his back.

"Steve, what the… hell… are you doing," he demanded, and damn it, he really wished his teeth would stop knocking like sledgehammers in his mouth.

"Getting you down," Steve said distractedly, holding him securely as he shuffled over to the edge, an implied _duh_ in his tone.

"Yeah, see… the thing is," Tony started, paused during a full body shiver that Steve winced at as if he were the one experiencing it, "there's no way…. that you're… carrying me down… that ladder holding me… bridal style."

"Of course not," Steve agreed matter-of-factly. "I'm going to jump."

"Going to…" Tony paused, this time not having anything to do with the cold, and glared. "You're… kidding me, right?"

Steve glanced down at him with a little smile, and kissed his forehead. "You know I'd never drop you."

"Yeah… you see, that's actually not… what I'm concerned… about," Tony bit out, "I'm more concerned… about you… hopping off of the edge… of our two story house."

"Super soldier, remember?"

"That… doesn't.. apply to this… situation." God, Tony couldn't believe he was arguing with his husband to not jump off the roof. Well, he could. But it was still ridiculous. "I… can get down… myself."

Steve looked down at him, gave him a look that Tony recognized as the pig-headed, stubborn as a mule Steve arising. Even so, Tony still glared. Of course he'd married the one man in the world who was even more insane and reckless than he was.

"You're insane… Steve… and I am so… going to yell at you… for this… later."

"Sure, baby." Steve kissed his forehead again, carefully assessed the ground below, and tightened his arms around Tony, holding him safe and secure.

Then Tony's heart was in his throat and they were in mid air, and if Steve was injured in any way from _jumping off the fucking roof,_ he was going to _kill him._

They landed with a soft thump, Tony could feel the way Steve's powerful legs took the brunt of the force and landed as lightly as possible, sure to not jostle Tony.

"My… hero," he grumbled, his tone sarcastic, but he was pretty grossly smitten with Steve, and secretly he meant it.

There was a flicker of a smug look on Steve's face, but before he could get a word out, he was hustling him into the house, somehow managing to open the door with one hand while still carrying Tony.

Maybe later, when he was no longer distracted by the waves of shivers that ran up and down his spine, and the contrasting warmth that was slowly seeping into him from Steve, he'd feel a bit embarrassed about this. As it was, he just wanted more Steve and to get warm.

Steve plopped him down on the couch, ran a worried hand through his hair, and bit his lip. He reached over to pull a blanket off the back of the couch, one they used for cuddling during movie nights, and tucked it around him carefully.

"Stop fawning over me, Rogers," Tony told him, and hey, look at that, he could speak without stammering again. It didn't matter though, Steve still looked at him through narrowed, concerned eyes, and leaned in close to him to press a soft kiss to Tony's nose.

"Shut up," he told him as he pulled away, but it was soft and fond, so Tony obliged, just this once. Mostly because he was still shivering and it wasn't exactly the easiest thing in the world to talk at the moment, and partly because he really didn't mind Steve hovering.

Okay, he loved it. But he wasn't going to admit that out loud.  

Steve stood up then and got up to leave the room, and Tony just sat there shivering until he returned a few minutes later with a steaming mug of tea.

"Here," he said gently, passing it to Tony, who reached out for it gratefully. It wasn't coffee, but he wasn't going to complain about that; he'd banned Steve from using the coffee maker anyways, since the last incident. Tea would have to do.

"Here," Steve said, his voice soft and warm in Tony's ear, and then he was lifting up the blanket and sliding in behind him, warm solid warmth spreading across his back as he was pulled in close against Steve's chest. Strong arms wound tightly around his waist, locking him into that careful embrace, and Steve rested his chin on Tony's shoulder.

"Better?" he asked, and Tony nodded.

"Better," he confirmed, and Steve gave one of those little relieved sighs he always did whenever he was done overreacting, and huddled in closer to Tony. Tony in turn leaned back his head against Steve's shoulder, letting everything that was Steve wash over him and warm him to his core.

It was after a few minutes of comfortable silence that Tony felt a laugh trembling on his lips.

Steve shifted behind him, and nosed at his neck, and Tony just started snickering, his shoulders suddenly shaking with mirth.

"What is it?"

Tony managed to get himself under control for just long enough to turn around and look his confused, golden haired boyfriend in the eye and say, "I got stuck on the fucking roof, Steve," with an absolute straight face. A split second later he lost it, doubling over and laughing in earnest because he had quite literally spent the past four hours on the roof.

It took Steve a few moments, but then Tony felt the slightest chuckle rising in his chest, a slow rumble against his back, and that just set Tony off more. He snorted with laugher, feeling the strain deep in his gut, and heard Steve fall into hysterics behind him.

"What where you even _doing?"_ Steve asked, short and choppy between laughs, and Tony just held up a finger until he found the breath to respond.

"Christmas lights," he choked out, and Steve started to laugh even harder.

"I didn't even _notice_ them."

The pure hilarity of the situation took hold of them, Tony spilled a little bit of tea onto his numb leg, and Steve let loose one of those adorable snorting laugh noises that embarrassed him but Tony loved so much. All in all it was a mess, but neither of them cared.

Later, after Tony had warmed up and the ache of laughter had faded from their bellies, Tony tilted his head up to look at Steve, who still sat behind him, arms everlastingly steady around his waist.

"I wanted to surprise you and the kids," he murmured, and Steve grinned at him.

"Maybe next time skip the getting stuck on the roof part," Steve suggested, and Tony grimaced. "But the kids will love it, honey."

Tony hummed in satisfaction and let his eyes flutter shut.

"Almost as much as they're going to love this story when I tell them," he continued, and Tony's eyes shot open to glare at him, and he turned around a bit in the circle of his arms.

"So there's no way this is staying between us?"

"Nope," Steve said cheerily, and his whole face was lit up in that grin Tony loved, all crinkly eyed and sunny, so sickeningly adorable that he couldn't stand it. Not for the first time, Tony wondered when married life was going to dull down his adoration of absolutely everything Steve did, when the contented glow of happiness he got every time he looked at Steve would fade away.

"You're a cruel man," Tony groaned, "I'll never live this down."

"No," he agreed, his eyes intent and careful on Tony's as he started to lean down until his breath brushed lightly against Tony's lips. "But that's okay."

"Yeah," he whispered, and reached up to wrap a hand around the base of Steve's neck to pull him that final distance into a kiss, "it is."

It was then, with Steve's mouth undemanding and softly pressed against his, with the warm glow of happiness strumming through him, that he decided that the answer was never.

He would always love Steve like this.


	10. I Planned The Mistletoe, But Not The Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I missed yesterday which means I'll post two tomorrow (I did promise 25!). Or, lets be real. It might not be tomorrow. But I'll try.

"Um, Steve?"

"Mmm?" Steve looked over at Tony, who was standing next to him all bundled up in a red woolen hat that was pulled low over his forehead, and was huddled deep inside a puffy jacket that would have made him resemble a marshmallow had it not been black. He was looking at Steve with a hesitant, borderline apprehensive expression, a few specks of falling snow glittering on the dark hair that peeked out from underneath his hat.

They’d been inside, the annual Avengers Christmas party running rampant around him, when Tony had flopped down next to Steve, making him squeal in indignation when he greeted him by poking him sharply in the ribs. Steve had been talking to Bruce, who just smiled at Tony and looked at his watch, while Steve turned to narrow his eyes at Tony; he knew that he hated when he did that. Catching the wordless annoyance that Steve intoned in his half hearted glare, Tony just grinned at him and shrugged unapologetically. Steve had just rolled his eyes, but with Tony smiling at him like that, he didn’t really have it in him to actually be annoyed.

Bruce spoke up then, standing and telling them that he had something he had to do, said goodbye, and then left Steve alone with Tony, who was still giving him that grin that shot sparks through his body all the way down to his toes.

It hadn’t taken much wheedling from Tony to convince him to bundle up and come up to his balcony with him, claiming he was desperate need of fresh air and quiet. Which seemed a bit strange for Tony, him being normally all for rowdy soirees and loud music, but Steve was more than happy to oblige, and had followed Tony up to his floor willingly.

 

So there they were, standing on the precipice of the Avengers tower, soft flakes of snow dancing around them as they leaned on the railing, looking down over the city as it was carefully cloaked in a blanket of white.

And now, Tony was looking at him with those eyes that were soft and sparkling all at the same time, and even though the air was cold and his nose was probably bitten as red as Tony’s (which, by the way, was so unbearably adorable, he was restraining himself from leaning over to kiss it and call him Rudolph), but he was warm through and through.

But Tony was saying something again, so he snapped out of those thoughts and told himself to pay attention and stop daydreaming about kissing his best friend and teammate’s nose.

"What was that?" Steve asked, apologetic.

"Look up," Tony repeated and pointed. Steve did, craning his head back so that snow came down to kiss his cheeks with tiny pricks of coldness, and looked at whatever Tony was referring to.

What he saw was, hanging down from the section of the roof that jutted out slightly over the balcony, was a cluster of green leaves set with berries as white as the snow that fell around them.

Mistletoe, he realized, with a sudden throb of his heart. He was standing under mistletoe with Tony Stark.

He lowered his head back down to look at Tony, and he couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red because of the cold, or because a faint blush was heating them. Either way, it looked positively delicious.

"That’s mistletoe," he stated blandly, his voice a bit hoarse. His cheeks were definitely red too, but it wasn’t because of the cold, and he wished it was darker so that Tony wouldn’t be able to see.

"Yeah, it is," Tony responded with a short laugh, and it was a bit shaky and awkward, which was pretty much how Steve was feeling.

They stayed silent for a few moments, staring at each other, before they both started to speak rapidly at the same time, like the words were spilling forth uncontrollably without their personal permission.

"We really don’t have-"

"It’s just a silly tradition-"

They both stopped midsentence, and Tony caught his lip between his teeth, and God Steve wished he was the one doing that. He could actually feel the flush across his cheeks deepen at that thought, and his ears were burning underneath the snugness of his hat.

Awkward silence ensued, and Tony was the one who eventually broke it.

"I mean, I don’t mind, and it’s just a tradition, and if you don’t want to, I get it. No skin off my nose."

"You think I don’t want to?" Steve asked before he could stop himself, because really, that was a laugh.

Tony’s brows raised slightly. “Do you?”

"Do  _you?_ " Steve countered.

Tony rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I just said I don’t mind.”

Steve hunched one shoulder up, and tried his hardest to keep his face nonchalant. ‘I don’t mind,’ was better than no, right?

"I don’t mind either," he told him.

 A tiny frown creased between Tony’s brows. “Does that mean that you want to, or that you don’t and are just humouring me?”

Then he chewed at his lip again, and before Steve could properly think about what he was doing, he huffed out a breathy chuckle that clouded the air in front of him, and he was closing the few steps between them a quick, spontaneous moment. Tony’s eyes widened as Steve came to stop right in front of him, peering down at him with eyes that were most likely shocked by his own impulsiveness.

But he didn’t back away, and Steve was watching his face for even the slightest flicker that told him that he wanted him to stay back, so that was a good sign.

Summoning up some tiny glimmer of courage he had dancing hot and insistent in his chest, he raised one gloved hand slowly, still giving Tony time to notice and back away if he didn’t like it, and placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Underneath his touch, Tony didn’t stiffen, which was another good sign. He just was watching Steve carefully, assessing everyone of his movements with the train of his gaze.

Steve moved his hand after a moment, and found himself placing it carefully against the curve of Tony’s neck, and then let it slowly drift up to cup his jaw, and then his flushed cheek. He stepped forward once again, impossibly close and his heart thudding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. He was standing just a breath away from Tony. Their noses were almost touching, and Tony’s lips were parted ever so slightly, his jaw slackened with surprise.

"Stop me if you don’t want this," Steve murmured, but Tony didn’t, just kept his gaze steady on Steve, his whole body seeming to be taut with anticipation.

But his face was open, the surprise there didn’t seem dark and distasteful, so Steve took a chance and leaned in enough to bump his nose against Tony’s cold one. When he still didn’t push away, he took in a breath, and pressed his lips against Tony’s.

Tony’s lips were slightly dry, but smooth and just soft enough to feel like velvet against his mouth. At contact, Tony let out a tiny gasp, like he’d been holding his breath and he’d forgotten about it, but then a split second later he made a pleased hum against Steve’s mouth, and melted into his touch.

At the feeling of Tony responding to him, Steve felt a relieved and content smile flicker at the corner of his mouth, and he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t enough that it broke the kiss away from being chaste and soft, but enough that he could push wordlessly at Tony how much he desperately wanted this.

Steve’s hand remained steady and tender against Tony’s cheek, and the other one reached down to curve around his waist, and he pulled him close so that he could hold Tony gently and firmly against him. With Steve’s arm locked around his waist, Tony let out a soft little exhale that ghosted lightly across Steve’s lips, and he went soft and pliant in his arms as he reached both arms up to loop around Steve’s neck.

They stayed like that for a while, kissing softly and unhurried, Steve letting Tony lean into him, supporting his weight against him, as Steve held him securely in his arms.

When they finally broke away from each other, Tony was grinning at him a little goofily, and Steve was pretty sure his face was a perfect match.

"I planned that," Tony told him, and Steve took a moment to shake himself out of his dopey state.

"You put it there?" he asked.

"Of course," Tony said, the  _duh_ quite apparent in his tone. “Who else would have?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “But you looked nervous.”

"You take that back, Rogers," Tony demanded, but he was still smiling and his tone was soft, "I didn’t know how you were going to react."

Steve smiled at him happily, and yeah, he probably looked like a smitten idiot, but that’s what he was, so he didn’t care all that much.

He leaned in again, and brushed a kiss against the tip of Tony’s nose, which he scrunched up in response to, but otherwise didn’t complain.

"Now you know," he said. "Did you plan on the snow too?"

Tony grinned, and he shook his head. “Alas, that was not me.”

"It’s too bad," Steve murmured, "it’s rather romantic." His was voice soft and dipping down into a lower register that rumbled softly in his chest. His eyes lingered on Tony’s, staring right into those orbs of brown, wanting to absorb every ounce of contentment he saw shining there.

"Yeah," Tony agreed, "it is, isn’t it?" 

Steve knew Tony didn’t come off so much as the type for romance, but the giddy happiness on his face then was starting to make Steve think otherwise.

That was okay. He could definitely get used to romance with Tony.

And with that, with his arms that were still clutched around Steve’s neck, Tony leaned forward again. In the midst of soft snowfall, with the sounds of a party raging in the belly of the tower, Steve let himself get lost in Tony as he pulled him in for another kiss. 

 

 

 


	11. A Gaggle of Star Spangled Babies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh it sucks and it's short, I promise I'll get back on track tomorrow.

Steve had been gone for three weeks, and Tony was just about to go insane.

Well, really, he had started feeling like he wanted to pull his air out within three days of him leaving, but at this point, it was getting a bit ridiculous. He was turning into a prepubescent teenager, jumping up excitedly every time his phone rang, and practically wilting with disappointment whenever it wasn't him.

And the times that it was Steve, well. Let's just say that it was lucky that Steve couldn't actually see him, because, if he could, he would Tony grinning stupidly from ear to ear at just the sound of his voice. It was more than a little bit embarrassing, but he just couldn't help it.

Tony was so far gone it was absurd.

Since they'd become friends, after they'd made awkward apologies and attempted sporadic conversations that turned into actually enjoying and looking forward to each other's company, Tony had been smitten. All it had taken was a few weeks of Steve's dry humor and sunny grins that could light up the whole sky, and he'd been a goner.

So, three weeks after Steve had left on a SHIELD mission he'd told Tony he wasn't allowed to talk about.

It was a week before Christmas, and Rhodey had just gotten to New York, and at Tony's insistence, he was staying at the tower. They'd just gotten home from sitting at their usual bar, having just a few too many drinks, and talking about everything that they'd missed in each other's lives. In Tony's case, that included a few new projects, and of course, his mild infatuation with Steve.

Rhodey's reaction had been somewhere along the lines of wide eyed shock, followed by very vehement instructions stating that Tony must confess his love to him, and have a gaggle of star spangled babies (Rhodey's wording, not his). He'd of course laughed it off, because that was absurd, and yet, here he was, sitting in his shop staring at his phone. He was more than a little bit fuzzy and giddy from the liquor in his system, and in his current inebriated state, it was seeming more and more like it would be a good idea to call up Steve just then, and tell him how he felt.

So, he did.

He sat there with his phone pressed against his ear, as he sat curled up in his chair, his lip worriedly caught in a harsh grip between his teeth.

He let out a groan of disapproval when the phone kept ringing and ringing, there was Steve's voice telling him very  respectfully that he wasn't available, but he could leave a message and he would call him back as soon as he could. At that moment, Tony was pretty sure that it was very urgent that he talk to Steve immediately, so when the loud beep sounded in his ear, he started talking.

"Hey, Steve. So, you've been gone for a while, and I don't know, I kind of miss you? Like, I mean, I miss you a lot. And you couldn't tell me anything about your mission, and I know you're not able to answer your phone very much, but I just really wanted to hear your voice. And you know, I never really cared that much about Christmas, but something about spending it with you just seems like it would be … nice. Being with you would be nice, period, actually. Oh, that reminds me, Rhodey wants us to get married and have a gaggle of star spangled babies. He's insane."

After all that came out in one big rush, he took a deep breath, and finished with, "Yeah, so. I don't know. I hope you come home soon. I miss you."

Then he hung up, tossed his phone aside, and promptly flopped on the couch in the corner of his shop to fall asleep, completely forgetting about the drunken phone call.

Until, a few days later, a breathless Steve in a tattered uniform and a angry looking scratch etched into his cheek, burst into the room.

"Tony?" Steve called as he walked into the room, and Tony looked up from where he was playing around with the specs for the most recent Mark, and smiled at the sight of Steve.

"Hey there Capsicle, you're back already? Christ, you look like you've been through hell-"

He didn't quite get to finish his sentence, because as soon as he started speaking, Steve started striding forward with a determined expression written across his face, heading straight for Tony. Before he could ask him what was going on, Steve was standing in front of him, and Tony was suddenly crushed in super strength enhanced arms, and a soft and insistent mouth was on his own.

Tony was proud of the way that his mind only took a fraction of a second to catch up with the current events, namely, Steve kissing him senseless.

Which, yeah, he could definitely get on board with. He very enthusiastically reciprocated, his arms coming up to loop around his neck, as he leaned into Steve and let him kiss him to his heart's content.

When they parted, Tony was a little breathless, and so was Steve, who was looking down at him with hungry eyes and a goofy smile.

"Now, not that I'm complaining, because you can do that any time you want, but where did that come from?" Tony demanded, and he was pretty sure that his grin was just as goofy as Steve's, but he didn't even care.

"I think you may have called me when you were drunk," Steve told him cheerfully, and Tony frowned.

"What, I don’t remember calling you."

Steve smirked, and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone with one hand, and glanced down to press a few buttons. A few seconds later, Tony blanched, because all he could hear was;

"Hiya, Steve. So, you've been - _hic -_  gone for a while, and I dunno, I kinda miss you? Like, I mean, I miss you a lot. And you couldn't tell m'anything about - _hic-_ your mission, and I know-"

"Alright, that's enough of that," Tony blurted out, and reached down to hit the off button on Steve's phone. Steve was still smirking as he shoved it back in his pocket, his hand returning to Tony's waist.

"So," he said, and Tony grimaced, "I came home for Christmas."

"Yeah," Tony said miserably, because he was so horribly embarrassed. However, at the same time, he was in Steve's arms and it was seeming like kissing was on the agenda again in the near future, so it was alright. More than alright. "Yeah, you did."

Steve let out a little laugh, and leaned in close so that Tony could feel his breath across his lips.

"I'll keep the gaggle of star spangled babies in mind, okay? Maybe you'd like to go on a date first though."

Tony very nearly choked on his tongue. Damn Rhodey.

"Yeah, a date might be nice," Tony said, his voice strangled.

Steve grinned and leaned in, and the way his smile felt against his own mouth, Tony thought it was safe to say that it was worth the embarrassment.


	12. Not Even Superheroes Have Christmas Off

So, it turned out that not even superheroes got the day off for Christmas.

They'd all been woken up to the sound of JARVIS relaying a message to all of the Avengers from Clint and Thor, demanding that everyone get up right this instant because there were presents to open and food to eat. JARVIS gave them the message three times before everyone finally decided that there was no way they could ignore Clint and Thor's enthusiasm, and they all emerged from their rooms grumbling and rubbing their eyes.

They'd just sat down in front of the massive tree in the living room and were bickering about how was the best way to go about opening gifts - Clint voted for just charging in and going wild, and Steve wanted to go slowly so he could thank everyone properly for what they'd given him - when the alarm went off. Apparently Loki had decided that Christmas morning was the best time to send in a small army of aliens to wreak havoc on earth. Really, in his mind, it was probably his version of a Christmas present.

So they all got up, suited up, and went off to fight aliens, because that was their life now.

It wasn't even close to being the worst that they'd dealt with, it was more a nuisance than anything else, and they'd gone around bashing the hulking blue creatures with minimum difficulty. They'd all thought that it would be over quickly, with relatively no harm done.

They were right, up until the very last few moments of battle.

Long story short, they'd captured the last of the unruly invaders, and had rounded them up for questioning. Steve had been speaking to the first responders, using that commanding Captain voice and posture that Tony liked so very much, when one alien that had apparently gone unaccounted for, appeared out of nowhere and jabbed Steve through his torso with a cruel looking weapon.

As was to be expected, pandemonium ensued, the Avengers (particularly Tony) flying into a rage, and Steve was rushed into the hospital. Tony had ridden in the ambulance with him, and at the sight of all the blood and the way Steve's face kept contorting in pain, he'd ignored all restrictions he'd put on himself when it came to expressing his affection for Steve, and grabbed one of Steve's hands tightly in his own.

When he did so, Steve gave him a faint smile and squeezed his fingers lightly, and then he was passing out again, leaving Tony's throat dry and brow creased with worry.

Even though the paramedics were adamant that the super serum would keep the injury from being fatal, and he was going to be fine, there was so much blood and Tony just couldn't seem to help himself from being more than a little bit worried.

Arriving at the hospital was a blur of him being pushed aside for nurses and doctors to wheel Steve away for examination, and after forever of pacing back and forth in the waiting room with the rest of the team, he was allowed inside Steve's room. He'd gratefully flopped down in the chair next to his bed while the rest of the team crowded into the remaining space of the cramped room, and he had taken Steve's hand in his own again, impatiently waiting for him to wake up.

So that's how he'd ended up here, slouched over next to Captain America's beside, impulsively holding his hand, exhausted and battle weary, on Christmas day.

He'd just dozed off, his chair as close as physically possible to the bed, his forehead resting near Steve's shoulder, when movement snapped him promptly back into consciousness. He felt Steve's hand turn over so that instead of him just clutching desperately at him, their fingers were tangled together.

Tony blinked sleepily and looked up to see Steve looking down at him, his face arranged into a bemused expression. He looked groggy, but his eyes were as bright as ever, and the dark bruising on his face had faded into faint shadowing across his cheekbone, and all the scrapes he'd had all over his face had all but disappeared.

"Hey, Tony," he croaked, and Tony sat up straight with a start.

"Steve! You're awake!" he exclaimed, foolishly relieved even though Steve hadn't really been in any danger, he found himself impulsively vaulting out of his seat to carefully wrap his arms around Steve's shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He was still mindful of his wounds, which were no doubt still extremely painful, but he may have been clutching at him a little bit.

When he realized what he was doing, he kind of froze, and had just been about to pull away and apologize, when he felt an arm curling around his waist, reciprocating the hug. Steve laughed hoarsely under his breath, and hugged Tony back with his one arm. "Yeah. I'm fine, Tony," he told him softly, and Tony just hugged him tighter.

Through the haze of relief, Tony found himself being incredibly weak, and melted into the embrace. He figured what the hell, it was Christmas after all.

After a while he thought that maybe it would be a good idea to back off a bit, this was crossing into 'I care about you as more than just a friend' territory, and so he started to loosen his grip and ease back a bit, but Steve didn't let him get very far. The arm he had clasped around his waist let him go, but only so that he could curl his hand around the back of his neck, keeping him secure and close, so close that they were mere inches away from each other. Instead of moving back, Tony simply rested his hands lightly on the broadness of Steve's chest.

Okay, so they were doing this. Maybe serious injuries made Steve more openly affectionate.

"You asshole," Tony groused, "you had to go and almost get yourself killed on Christmas, didn't you?"

"Hey, he came up behind me, what was I supposed to do?" Steve shot back, but he was smiling.

"I don’t know, grow eyes on the back of your head?" Tony grumbled, and Steve laughed softly, shaking his head. He was close enough that he felt that laugh come out in a gust of air across his lips, and he shivered involuntarily. He hoped Steve wouldn't notice, especially with the way that he still had his big, warm hand firmly cupping the back of his neck.

"I'll get right on that," he murmured.

"Right," Tony nodded, and then glanced down to where he knew there was a mass of bandages underneath his hospital gown. "How do you feel?"

"Like I just got stabbed in the side by an alien."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Smartass. What would the world do if they knew what a sarcastic asshole Captain America is?"

Steve shrugged, and then winced as it probably jostled his injuries. Tony wanted to smack him. "I think they'd find a way to go on."

"I'm not so sure," Tony mused, "they've already got one smartass, and Clint's no better than I am. It's a wonder that they even let the lot of us save the world at all."

Steve was smiling up at Tony weakly. "I think they have more important things to worry about."

"If you say so," Tony conceded with a grin, and then he glanced down at his watch. "Hey, it's only eleven thirty, it's still Christmas."

"Huh, how about that," Steve said quietly, and his fingers flexed against Tony's skin. "Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Merry Christmas," Tony whispered back, and maybe it was the way that Steve was looking at him through those astonishingly long eyelashes, all sweet and content even though he was laying all patched up in a hospital bed, maybe it was the way that his hand felt against his neck, or the way that Steve was smiling softly like everything was okay in the world.

Whatever the reason was, he found himself swaying forward, inching closer and closer to Steve, who just watched him with careful eyes.

When he was just a breath away from Steve's lips, his eyes flicked up to meet his blue ones, and found no objection there. Still, he asked in a soft voice, "may I?"

Steve just nodded slightly, and leaned in too.

Their lips met with a pleased noise from Tony's throat, and he could feel Steve's smile against his lips. It was slow and careful, nothing too demanding, but Steve's lips were soft and full beneath his and his breath was gentle against his mouth, and Tony figured it was the best kiss he'd ever had.

"You know, we're still in the room, assholes."

The voice broke them away, and Tony turned around to glare at Clint, who was looking at him accusingly, while the rest of the team snickered behind their hands.

"If you don’t want to see, leave," Tony told him plainly, and turned back to Steve, who was faintly flushed, but still grinning happily. "Because I'm going to be doing that again."

"Good," Steve said, and Tony swooped in to kiss him again.

All in all, Christmas that year could've been a lot worse.


	13. You'd Still Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little peek into a high school AU ‘verse that I have tentatively in the works, because scrawny, bull headed, hipster Steve Rogers with protective boyfriend Tony Stark gives me all the warm fuzzies. Let me know if you like it, ‘cause there will probably be a whole series with these guys!

"You ready to go?"

Tony involuntarily felt a smile curve his lips at the soft words that were spoken lowly into his ear, accompanied by the feeling of a warm arm curling around his waist, a hand coming to rest softly against the dip of his hip bone. The warmth of a slight body came to hover against his back, and he felt a chin settling down to rest on his shoulder.

 He was in the kitchen, idly throwing his two cents into the conversation going on around him, but mostly he was just paying attention to the eggnog in his hands, relishing in the faint sharpness he tasted that told him it was spiked.

Well, really, he was mostly just waiting for Steve.

It was half past midnight, the night having just crept over into Christmas day, and at the familiar touch, he felt something soft and warm glow inside of him. He was still fighting down a goofy smile as he turned, he really had to stop grinning like a fool every time Steve so much as deigned to offer him his presence.

When he turned and looked down at his blonde haired boyfriend with the soft grin, he saw that he was smiling too, and he didn’t feel so silly about it. It was so easy, all it took was looking at Steve, wearing his stupid red Christmas sweater with the sleeves pushed up to display thin arms etched with tattoos and his favourite blue hat slouched over his tousled hair. One look from those wide blue eyes that stared up at him with absolute focus and affection from behind those blocky glasses he had perched on his nose, Tony always just felt everything in him relax. He’d soften under his gaze, every time without fail. Steve had a knack for that, for making him comfortable in his own skin, and Tony more than appreciated it, even though he insisted that he wasn’t doing anything.

 

Even as Tony turned to him, Steve didn’t break contact with him. As he moved, his hand trailed along the line of his waist, coming to press lightly against the small of Tony’s back when he was facing him.

"Where have you been," Tony murmured, and he slung an arm around Steve’s shoulder, cupping the back of his neck in that way he knew he loved.

Steve shivered a little bit, and swayed forward, arching up on his toes a bit to lean his forehead against Tony’s. “Bucky was showing me something.”

Tony smirked. “Do I even want to know?”

Steve grimaced and gave a soft laugh. “Let’s just say ‘here, I got this,’ is never a good phrase to hear coming from Bucky after he’s had a few drinks. We’re very lucky we didn’t burn down Thor’s living room.”

"You keep reckless company, Rogers," Tony told him, his voice lilting in mock disapproval.

"Oh?" Steve’s eyebrows rose incrementally, and one side of his mouth twisted  up into an amused smile. "And what would you call yourself?"

Tony widened his eyes. “As calm and controlled as they come, of course.”

"Last week you almost blew up the lab at school."

Tony shrugged, and squeezed Steve’s neck again, earning himself another shiver that tingled against his finger tips, and a half hearted warning look from Steve. Tony grinned, unapologetically, because he knew that Steve didn’t actually mind.

"All in the name of science, I assure you," Tony told him and Steve rolled his eyes.

"One of these days you’re going to burn your eyebrows off or something."

"You’d still love me though right?" Tony asked, his voice fake concerned.

"Yes, of course," Steve whispered, the soft register of his voice intoning something a bit too serious for a conversation in the kitchen at a high school Christmas party, surrounded by kids clutching cups of warm beer and spiked eggnog, but Tony didn’t really care. He just grinned down at Steve as he bumped his nose against his own.

He’d just leaned down to brush a kiss against Steve’s lips, to which he was rewarded with a pleased hum, when a voice cut into the silence they’d found amidst the noise of chatter and loud music.

"Christ, get a room you two."

"Shut up, Bucky," both Steve and Tony said in unison.

"I thought you were looking for Thor to apologize for the scorch marks on the wall," Steve continued, not even bothering to look away from Tony.

Bucky grumbled under his breath. “I am, I can’t find the fucking ray of sunshine anywhere.”

"Look for Jane," Tony suggested, glancing over at the dark haired guy with his arms crossed over his chest, lips pursed in a moody frown. "He’s sure not to be far away."

Then he turned back to Steve, bent in to kiss him again briefly. “To answer your question, yes I am ready to go. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Tony didn’t have to ask to know that Steve would want to make his rounds and say goodbye before he left; Tony didn’t have the same obligation since both Rhodey and Pepper had left already.

Steve nodded, and reached into his pocket to pull out a set of car keys, and passed them to Tony. “Yeah, okay.”

Tony took the keys, and couldn’t resist kissing him just once more, to feel that smile against his lips. As he pulled away he tightened his arm around him for a moment, before dropping it and stepping away. “I’ll warm up the car,” he told him, and Steve smiled gratefully.

"See you, Bucky. Merry Christmas," Tony called as he started weaving his way through the crowd of bodies.

"Same to you, Stark," he heard from behind him, and then he was making his way outside, slinging his coat around his shoulders as he clambered down the stairs towards Steve’s car.

It was really a fixer-upper, Tony told him so all the time, and he’d spent countless grease stained hours fixing it for Steve whenever it inevitably broke down. As a result of that, the car was only just starting to warm up when Steve emerged from the house.

He slid into the driver’s seat, drowning in that huge coat of his in a way that was beyond adorable, giving an exaggerated shiver as he slammed the door closed behind him.

"Cold," he complained, and Tony nodded.

He wrapped his arms around himself, and smiled at Tony. “Hi,” he said softly.

"Hey, you," Tony whispered back, heat spreading through him from the center of his chest, and he leaned across the seat to cup both hands over the hollows of his cheeks, and pulled Steve into a kiss. Steve reciprocated beautifully like he always did, melting into Tony with a little contented sigh, bracing his arms on Tony’s forearms. His lips were always soft and enthusiastic, every kiss this perfect mix of tenderness and a slow, steady burn that Tony loved with every fibre of his being. This gentle fervor, this tremor of want and affection that ran through him every time he so much as touched Steve - he would never get tired of it.

It was Steve who broke away from the kiss, and Tony couldn’t help but make a petulant noise and frown in disapproval. Steve laughed softly, and released one hand from Tony’s arm to reach up and tangle his fingers into Tony’s hair. That felt so good that Tony was able to forgive the stopping of the kissing. For now.

"I have something for you," Steve murmured, and one of Tony’s eyebrows quirked up in curiosity.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, " Steve hummed, and scraped his nails lightly against Tony’s scalp, and God that felt better than it had a right to. "A Christmas present."

"It’s only Christmas Eve," Tony pointed out.

"I know," Steve said, and a wry little smile graced his lips. "But I want to give it to you before we go back to my mom’s. It’s just for you."

"Oh?" Tony grinned wickedly, and Steve stopped petting him to lightly smack the back of his head.

"Not like that, you idiot," he scolded, but Tony just grinned wider.

"Fine, fine. Whatever it is, I’ll love it."

Steve started chewing at his bottom lip a bit, assessing Tony, and between that and the apprehension on his face, Tony was practically restraining himself from stealing those lips for his own again. He would’ve, if Steve didn’t look so determined.

"Okay," Steve said finally, and then he was breaking out of Tony’s grasp to reach into the glove compartment. He pulled out something thin and longish, shaped sort of like a slab of something, and laid it into Tony’s waiting hands.

"Thanks," he told him, and Steve smiled at him, but Tony hated that nervous edge to the smile, and ached to brush it away.

"Hey, uh… wait." Tony made a decision, and then he was stretching his arm out behind him to deposit the present onto the back seat. He got out of his spot and started clambering into the back, and Steve squawked at him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, just as Tony landed heavily in the backseat with a muffled  _oof._

Steve was peeking at him over the back of his seat, and instead of answering, Tony just stuck out a hand to him and wiggled it invitingly. “C’mere.”

 Steve eyed his hand doubtfully for a moment, and Tony waggled it again. Then he sighed, seeming to just accept that his boyfriend was being strange as usual, and grasped Tony’s hand, who pulled him through the space between the front seats.

After a bit of manoeuvring, a bumped head that smacked against the roof of the car, hissed curses, Steve was finally seated where Tony wanted him; straggled over his lap, facing him. Like this, Steve’s face was at about eye level, illuminated faintly by the lights from the house that filtered in through the car windows. He had his back resting against the back of the front seat as he balanced himself on Tony’s lap, looking at him appraisingly.

"Good?" he asked.

"Yup," Tony said happily, and leaned in to kiss him quickly. "Perfect."

He picked up the package off of the seat beside him, the thin wrapping paper crinkling under his fingertips, and he looked over at Steve. “May I?”

"Go ahead," Steve told him, so Tony started tearing into the paper, only being careful in case whatever Steve had inside was breakable. He’d probably never forgive himself if he damaged whatever it was.

It started to emerge itself, and Tony could see the familiar edges of canvas unveiling itself from underneath the layers of paper, like he recognized from Steve’s little art studio back at home. He paused for a moment to brush his fingers across the signature in the corner with a small smile, and then turned it over, peeling the final layer of paper away.

And instantly felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

It was simple, superbly done, even Tony could tell that, but simple. Judging from the minimal knowledge he had about the realm of art, all of it thanks to Steve, he could tell that he was holding a watercolor painting in his hands, all soft lines and pale colors that were bright and faint all at the same time. Blended together like magic, by the hand of someone who put love and care into every stroke, Tony knew that he didn’t have to be dating the guy to think that Steve was talented. It was amazing, but the skill wasn’t what suddenly had Tony breathing a little funny.

It was him and Steve, and he recognized the scene immediately; the time that he’d first met the scrawny kid with the pig headed stubbornness and that piercing in the high arch of his eyebrow. They were in the library, sitting across from each other at one of those old rickety tables by the windows, and Steve was leaning forward on his elbows, his face all creased into a smile as he watched Tony talking with wide hand gestures.

Tony remembered it perfectly, waiting grumpily in that library, waiting for the kid he was supposed to be tutoring thanks to Pepper’s insistence - “If you’re going to stop depending on your dad, you have to  _work,”_ she’d said, and since it was Pepper, she convinced him - hating his life. Until he walked in.

He was this tiny thing, this strange mix of sharp angles and soft curves that just worked for some reason, his frame bony and slight underneath his Radiohead shirt. He had a tattered bag slung over his shoulder, and his jeans were loose in the most perfect way possible where they hung over his hips. His eyes were bright and focused as he searched the room, finally making eye contact with Tony.

Suddenly, tutoring didn’t seem so bad.

He flopped down across from him, and instead of ruining the whole endearing image like Tony was expecting him to by saying something along the lines of, “ _Oh my God, you’re Tony Stark,”_ he just smiled at him, his face all soft and friendly, and introduced himself.

They barely studied, and Tony was a goner from that day forward.

"I’m sorry if you don’t like it," Steve said dejectedly, clearly misinterpreting Tony’s reverent silence. "I have something better for you to open on Christmas, I just thought-"

Tony’s head snapped up, and he was frowning as he set the painting aside, wrapped his arms tightly around Steve’s waist to pull him close, to hold him against him.

At the abruptness, Steve stiffened in surprise, but then Tony was burying his face into the curve of Steve’s neck, and he relaxed. He melted into him with a surprised laugh, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder as he looped his arms around his neck.

"Okay, then," Steve said quietly, his voice, and started running his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony made a broken little noise that would’ve been embarrassing if he wasn’t with Steve - but then again, no one but Steve could make him feel this way, anyways.

They were silent for a while, just sitting there entwined, Tony breathing into the crease of Steve’s neck, Steve just carding his fingers lightly through his hair.

"It’s beautiful," Tony said finally, his voice a little more crackly and heavy than he’d hoped, but it would do.

"Yeah?" Steve whispered, and Tony nodded fervently.

"I love it. Thank you."

"Are you going to cry," Steve asked bluntly.

Tony let out a sharp laugh, and pulled back enough to press his cheek against Steve’s. “No,” he lied. He wasn't quite sure at this point.

"Okay, Tony," Steve responded, and Tony could feel the rumble of his voice against his face, little tremors that he felt all through his body.

Tony thought, not for the first time, that he loved this boy so damn much.

"Merry Christmas, baby," Tony murmured, and Steve wrapped his arm tighter around Tony’s neck, leaving him wishing that he’d never let go.

"Merry Christmas." 


	14. Let Me Lead

"Fuck you, Rogers, and everything you stand for."

"No need to sweet talk me," Steve responded brightly, "and also, I'd like to remind you that this was completely your idea."

Tony glared at him as though he wanted to kill him just with his gaze. However, the expression lost all potential to be intimidating, due to the fact that he was currently stumbling around on a pair of skates, resembling a newborn deer. Needless to say, the petulant expression on his face, paired with the awkward stance he was standing in as he stumbled forward - arms braced in the empty air and his legs spread a little bit too far apart - was probably the most adorable thing Steve had ever seen.

He was starting to think that Tony maybe hadn't thought his choice for their first date through very well.

It'd been incredibly endearing when Tony had asked him a few days ago, when Steve was bent over his sketchbook in concentration (drawing Tony, but no one needed to know that). Tony had actually looked almost nervous, and he was talking even faster than usual, interspersing casual requests to go on a date sometime with his trademark sarcasm. He'd had to interrupt, and tell Tony very firmly that yes of course he would, at which Tony's mouth snapped shut and he looked a lot more pleased than he'd probably intended.

So that's how he'd ended up here in a semi crowded skating rink, skating backwards slowly in front of Tony, arms  outstretched to catch Tony if (when) he fell. At first, Tony had insisted in horror that he didn't need Steve to baby him like that, but then he'd almost plummeted face first into the ice and he'd very quickly changed his mind, demanding that Steve return as a mere safety precaution.

Well, actually, he had very loudly exclaimed; "Fuck this, we're leaving," and after Steve gave him his best pleading face, he finally agreed to Steve protecting him from the ice as a precaution. It was not without Tony grumbling about how Steve was definitely taking advantage of him by using the puppy dog eyes on him, but Tony was grinning at him, almost as if he didn't realize he was doing it, so Steve didn't think he minded too much.

"Well, I didn’t think it would be this hard," Tony was saying with a indignant huff, and stumbled a little bit, which made Steve lunge forward to catch him. He ended up with his hand wrapped around Tony's wrist as he attempted to stay upright, and Steve just stood there as solid as possible, and tried to keep him from tumbling to the ground.

After a few moments of struggle, Tony was standing straight again and shooed Steve away, who very easily obliged. He was smiling, he knew he was and he couldn't help it, because Tony looked ridiculous and it was the sweetest thing he'd ever seen.

Tony looked up at him, panting a little bit, and pushed a hand through his hair before starting to stumble forward again.

"Quit grinning at me Rogers," he said, his voice still a little breathy, which only made Steve grin harder. "How are you so good at this anyways?"

Steve shrugged. "Me and Bucky used to go when we were kids. He taught me how. I was no better than you are now, at first."

Tony gave him a pointed look. "I think there's a bit of a difference between someone my age stumbling around on the ice like a fool, and a ten year old learning how."

"Well, technically I'm ninety five years old," Steve countered, and Tony rolled his eyes. "And I'm doing just fine."

"Yes, I'm aware that you're doing just fine Steve. Everyone in this rink is doing better than I am, including you. Including that kid over there who looks like he's pretty much fresh out of the womb." Tony pointed miserably, and Steve glanced over long enough to see a kid who probably wasn't much older than five whip past them.

"Tony," Steve chuckled, "you can't expect to be good at something you've never done before."

Tony glared some more, and Steve sighed.

"Here," he said and came closer to Tony. They almost collided, but Steve managed to stop that from happening with an arm that curled around his waist. He pulled Tony in close to him, bracing himself so that he wouldn't lose his balance by supporting his weight. Tony stared at him with eyes wide and brows that were straining to touch his hairline. Steve just smiled; Tony was warm and firm against him, and he didn't seem to mind the sudden proximity, so he wasn't going to deny himself the privilege of enjoying this.  

"My my, Steve," Tony murmured, and that was a wicked grin that was creasing his lips now. "So forward."

"Shut up," Steve mumbled, and he felt his cheeks heat a little bit, but he slowly drew away then, and ran his hands down the length of Tony's arms, until he found his hands. Slowly, as if asking for permission, he started to tangle his fingers with Tony's.

Tony reciprocated the motion, but he still looked confused. "What's your game plan here?"

Steve backed up a little bit more, and tugged Tony lightly. "I'm going to hold your hands as we skate."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope," Steve told him with a sunny smile, "I don't want you to fall."

"I am a _grown man_ Steve."

"A grown man who doesn't know how to skate," Steve pointed out, and he couldn't help but notice that Tony was still complaining, and yet he hadn't even tried to pull away. In fact, he seemed to be clutching at Steve's fingers a little desperately, their hands woven tight together.

So Steve started moving again, casually, thinking that maybe Tony wouldn't notice while he was too busy protesting.

"I was too busy building circuit boards when I was a kid to learn how to skate." Tony was moving with him now, his expression still adorably indignant, but not noticing that they were slowly shuffling along at a  snail's pace.

"You never went once?"

"Not once."

"Then I'm really not understanding why this was your first date choice, Tony."

"I told you, I thought it would be easy."

"Well," Steve began, and his eyes flicked down at their feet, "you're not doing so bad now."

Tony looked down in surprise, and then back up at him, his eyes narrowing accusingly. "You're a sneaky bastard, Steve."

Steve grinned unapologetically, and continued to lead. "I know."

Later, when Tony decided he'd really had enough of the whole skating thing at this point and that they needed to go hunt down food immediately, Steve more than happily pulled him off the ice. It wasn't until they were sitting on those old creaky bleachers, and Steve was tying the laces of their skates together, when Tony leaned over and let his fingers curl into the crook of his elbow.

Steve felt the hair at the back of his neck prickle at the contact, and turned to look at Tony, who was giving him a soft smile that Steve was pretty sure he was in love with.

"Thank you for coming with me," he murmured, and his brow was creased as though he was forcing himself to get the words out, like they were hard to say but he was determined to say them. Steve loved that about him, that fiery determination he had in him once he decided to do something; once he got that look in his eyes, nothing could stand in his way.

In lieu of being fixed with that expression, Steve waited patiently for Tony to continue, knowing that just under the surface, there was more that he wanted to say, and if he interrupted him, he might not say it. That was alright; Steve was more than happy to wait for Tony, in any way that he needed to.

Tony continued with a small smile that was tinged with hope and a little bit of doubt, and Steve wanted to wipe it away and replace it with something nicer. "I know I'm sarcastic and I complain but, really. I like spending time with you."

Steve shook his head, and scooted in closer to him, hooking his arm around Tony's waist again, and settled his hand into the dip right above his hip. Tony returned his hands into his lap, staring at Steve curiously as he leaned in so that they were face to face.

"I _love_ spending time with you," he told him honestly, and he did. God did he love being around this man, to the point where it was more than a bit ridiculous, he could literally feel himself light up when he entered the room and he would have to fight (most likely unsuccessfully) to keep the glee off of his face.

"Yeah?" Tony asked, still hopeful.

"Of course," Steve assured him, and tugged him in closer so that they were nose to nose. He didn't care that they were sitting on the outskirts of a public skating rink, in front of all eyes to see, the cold air nipping at their cheeks. All that mattered was Tony, and the giddy feeling he'd had in his gut ever since Tony had asked him out.

Tony smiled when their noses bumped together, and all the doubt immediately washed away, as if there was something in Steve's voice that convinced him, or maybe in the completely genuine expression Steve was trying to give him. Whatever it was, he was smiling up at Steve, open and content, and his lips were just right there, soft and pale in the dim light.

"May I?" Steve breathed, and he could've sworn that he felt Tony shiver a bit.

"Of course, you idiot," Tony laughed, a little bit sharp and giddy, and then Steve was swooping in, his lips pressing a soft kiss against Tony's lips.

He could feel the remnants of Tony's smile still lingering on his lips, he could taste the tail end of that smile as it faded and was replaced with Tony kissing Steve back with fervor. Steve's free hand raised to cup the side of Tony's face, and he kissed him gently, letting every moment slow and shimmer softly around him. The scratch of Tony's facial hair was foreign but entirely pleasant, and Steve was pretty sure he would never be tired of the pleased little noises that Tony was making deep in his throat, probably unintentionally.

When they broke apart, Steve felt a little bit dazed, and Tony's eyes seemed to be having a little bit of trouble focusing. He was sure that they looked ridiculous, staring at each other with goofy expressions on their faces, but Steve couldn't bring himself to care, and it didn't seem like Tony cared either.

Tony let out a breathy laugh and leaned in to quickly press another kiss to Steve's lips.

"Wanna go?" he asked, just the barest hint of a suggestion there, and Steve knew that whatever Tony had in mind, he wouldn't have a problem following.

"Yeah," he whispered, bumping their noses together again. "Let's go."

******** ** **


	15. Steve Rogers Isn't a Prude (But He's a Dork Who Wears Reindeer Antlers on Dates)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested, this is a continuation from yesterday's fic "Let Me Lead." Warning for mild nsfw-ness.

Tony hadn’t exactly planned on the night ending up like this.

Sure he’d thought about it, he was only human after all; it didn’t take much to look at Steve’s muscles straining underneath his shirt and to wonder what they looked like without clothes getting in the way. Then there was that half smirk he always did, usually appearing after he’d drop a line of dry humor that Tony was never expecting, and he was trying not to look too pleased with himself. Tony wasn’t sure why that expression made his blood hum hot and furious in his veins, but it did. And then there was his hands; artists hands, usually smudged with graphite or the remnants of paint clinging underneath his nails. They were broad and smooth, Tony had felt how velvety and gentle they were when he’d held Tony’s hand earlier that night. He had been far too weak not to wonder what it would feel like if those hand were to touch every inch of his body.

So, yes, he had thought about sex with Steve. He just hadn’t been expecting it.

 

He would’ve been completely fine if they hadn’t. Ecstatic even, considering that he was stupidly happy after having the most cliché date in existence, and he felt more than a little bit giddy when Steve smiled at him or reached out tentatively to curl his hand around Tony’s, as if he expected him to pull away. The date had gone wonderfully, despite Tony’s lack of experience in the skating department. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen that as their first date, but he’d thought that it was a date befit of the Christmas season, something that Steve would like. So they’d gone skating, and Tony had made a fool of himself by nearly falling on his face and needing Steve to lead him around like a child, but Steve was so sweet about it he didn’t even care that much. Later on they got hot chocolate and Steve was absolutely humiliating by wearing a pair of Rudolph antlers someone gave him as they were leaving the rink, much to Tony’s (very loud) disapproval. Tony teased him, but Steve just gave him that dopily happy smile, so Tony didn’t really mind. All in all, it was the best date Tony had ever been on.

Tony would’ve been more than happy to kiss him goodnight on his doorstep like the teenage dates he’d never had (or, technically, before he got off on the elevator on his floor of the tower), but then, to Tony’s utmost surprise, Steve made the first move.

They were walking hand in hand into one of the private elevators, their cheeks still flushed from the cold winter air, when Steve set their skates down on the floor, and pulled him close just as the doors slid shut.

He was still holding his hand, but with his free one he reached out to grip lightly on Tony’s hip, and with a smile that made Tony feel warm all the way down to his toes, he tugged Tony towards him, holding him close so that they were chest to chest. He lifted the hand that was still holding Tony’s within his own, and as he drew it up to about eye level, he shifted his grasp so that their fingers were tightly woven together. He held it there, their pose akin to one that dancers take before they glide in time with the music, and just gazed at Tony with this expression of absolute contentedness.

"I had an amazing time with you, Tony," he murmured, then he pulled Tony’s hand so that it was curled between their faces, and Tony could feel his breath warm and soft against his skin before he pressed cool lips to the back of his hand, their eyes never leaving each other’s.

Tony shivered, and as Steve released his hand to curve it around his other hip, he gave a shaky laugh to try and cover it up.

"Ever so the gentleman, Rogers," he said lightly, his tone carefully teasing.

Steve shrugged and leaned forward to bump his nose against Tony’s cheek, practically nuzzling against him. “Something tells me you don’t mind.”

Tony just gave another breathy laugh, and it might have been a little frantic because things like this just didn’t happen to him; standing like he was something cherished and dear in the circle of Steve’s arms. A part of him was just waiting for someone to pop out and tell him it was all a joke.

But the other part of him, the uncharacteristically hesitant part of him, just wanted to enjoy this as much as possible. So he lifted his arms and let himself wrap them loosely around Steve’s neck, relishing in the warmth that was wafting off of his body.

"You’re so cold," Steve whispered against his skin, and Tony felt his run like electric current across his flesh. Steve was smiling, his hair was all mussed and sticking out in certain places from the hat that he’d been wearing, and his face was slack and relaxed, almost as though he was just as happy as Tony was right then, and Tony felt something like a jolt of - well, he didn’t know what it was, but it was soft and filled with heat and light, and it made him want to kiss Steve so badly it rested like an ache in his chest.

As if sensing Tony’s thoughts, Steve turned his head just slightly then, and suddenly his lips were right there, his blue eyes gentle and fervent as they held Tony’s gaze, and before he could properly think through his actions, he was leaning forward to steal the kiss from his lips he’d been thinking about for hours.

Steve certainly didn’t seem to mind, judging by the way his fingers flexed against Tony’s hips through the thick fabric of his coat as they collided, and made a quiet noise in his throat that trembled against their lips. He kissed him back sweetly, taking care to give full attention to Tony with the tenderness of his lips, and clutched him tightly against his broad chest. Tony was more than happy to let him.

Neither of them seemed to be in a rush, it wasn’t frantic or laden with immediate lust. It felt like a slow burn, and as the edges blended softly from chaste to a low simmering desire, Tony thought that he would be just as content to just stand here and kiss Steve stupid for hours. Desire was building in his loins, but this was more than enough. This was perfect, he couldn’t have been more content than he was right then.

It felt better than it had a right to; the ghost of Steve’s breath against his lips, the way his hair was soft under his fingers as he ran his hands through the blond mass of hat hair, and so he may have let himself go a little bit. He just let himself melt into Steve’s arms, and gave back everything that he was given.

Somehow they ended up pressed against one wall, with Tony’s back plastered against the smooth surface while Steve hovered over him with his lips heavy on his neck, sucking red marks into his sensitive flesh. Tony thought he was handling himself pretty well with the way that he was holding back the needy noises that were pushing at the back of his throat - how could Steve be so good at this - but then, Steve lightly scraped his teeth against his neck, and that was it.

"Steve," he gasped, and it was laced with desire and pure want. Steve made an amused sound against his neck, and Tony smacked the back of his head lightly.

"Shut it, Rogers," Tony commanded, but he was breathing a little funny so it didn’t really have any heat behind it.

"As you wish," Steve obliged, and did the thing with his teeth again, earning himself a full body shudder from Tony.

"Oh, fuck. Okay, if you’re going to keep doing that, you better be taking me to bed, because otherwise you’re going to have to stop sucking on my neck and let me go take a cold shower."

At that, Steve glanced up, and one eyebrow arched up. “Is that what you want?” he asked.

Tony just looked at him, feeling his breath escaping his lungs a little choppily, feeling the burn of desire singing through him, and maybe he was being a little bit overly honest tonight because all he could do was rasp out, “I just want you.”

At that, Steve just assessed him carefully for a few moments, eyes appraising him as he looked up at Tony with those bright eyes, as if he was searching for any hesitation on Tony’s part.

Then, after he seemed satisfied, he leaned in to brush a kiss across Tony’s lips.

"JARVIS, take us up to my floor," he said, not taking breaking eye contact, so it took a moment for Tony to realize in his dazed state that Steve wasn’t actually talking to him.

When he felt two warm hands slot into place where the back of his legs met his ass, he made a rather undignified squawk, and then he was being hoisted up by strong arms. Involuntarily, his legs wrapped around the trunk of Steve’s waist, and he clung to him as their lips met again. Tony would have complained about being man handled, but the way that Steve did everything so gently, always waiting for a moment before continuing on to make sure that Tony was completely okay with everything, was so sweet that even he couldn’t bear to be an asshole about it.

Plus, it turned out that he kind of liked being man handled by a certain Steve Rogers.

They stayed like that, with Tony clinging to Steve like an octopus while Steve’s hands braced firmly against his back, even as they stumbled out of the elevator and found their way to the bedroom. Steve only set him down when they crossed the threshold into his room, and started shrugging out of his jacket, which he flung onto the floor. Tony did the same, and Steve came close again, dipping his hands under the hem of Tony’s shirt to slide against the curve of his hips.

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and stretched up on his toes to kiss him again, loving the way that Steve melted into it.

"Never been in your room before," Tony murmured against his lips as he started pushing him across the room towards the bed.

"Well, I didn’t think you’d want to do this in the hallway, or the elevator," Steve whispered back, and Tony gave him a wicked grin between kisses.

"My, my, the Captain isn’t a prude after all," he laughed, and Steve responded by tossing him onto the bed on his back, and tearing off his shirt.

The smile died on Tony’s lips at the sight of Steve crawling up along his body, eyes dark with desire, hands skimming against Tony’s flesh as he made his way up to hover over his lips.

"Do I look like a prude to you right now?" he asked quietly, and Tony’s breath died in his throat. It was a challenge, he could see that in the quirk of Steve’s mouth, in the way that his eyes flitted from gazing into Tony’s, and then back to his lips.

"No," Tony breathed, because fuck it, he was just going to succumb to this. Every cell in his body was aching for it, and he wasn’t strong enough to resist.

Steve gripped the hem of his shirt and very effectively pulled it over his head, casting it aside. Tony surged up then to kiss him, hard and dirty, slipping his tongue into Steve’s mouth after only just a few moments of their lips pressed together, and Steve responded beautifully. The bareness of their chests brushing together felt better than Tony ever would’ve imagined, and suddenly he was overcome with a unbearable desire to have every inch of himself covered with Steve’s bare flesh. So, he started scrabbling at Steve’s belt, and Steve did the same for him, and soon pants and boxers were discarded, socks were kicked off.

Tony very liberally applied his attention to exploring every inch of Steve’s body, his fingers hungrily pressed against the expanse of his flesh. Steve did the same, his hands warm and smooth against him.

When Steve’s hand grazed lightly against the arch of his hip, and continued on to find the hardness between his legs, Tony couldn’t help but moan into Steve’s mouth and arch up off of the bed.

"Damn it Steve," he gasped as he moved his hand in a way that made his toes curl against the comforter, "how are you so good at this?"

Steve just gave him a lewd grin and nipped at his ear. He kissed Tony’s mouth, and then his neck, pausing there for a few moments to give his attention to giving him what would no doubt be a rather large hickey he’d wear for the next week. All the while his hand was tortuous against Tony, moving just slowly and firmly enough to make Tony completely pliant and desperate in his arms.

Steve came back up to kiss just behind his ear. “What do you want?”

"You," Tony said stupidly, and Steve chuckled, kissing him again.

"Want to elaborate?"

"I want-" Tony cut himself off with a rather loud groan, and Steve just waited for him to continue. "Inside of me. I want you inside of me."

"I think we can manage that," Steve told him and pulled him in to kiss him again.

It was amazing how easy it seemed to be for Steve to take Tony apart. Tony wasn’t used to this, he wasn’t used to someone paying such close attention to the hitch of his breath, to being looked at as if he were the only important person in the world as he writhed and trembled beneath the comforting weight of another person’s body. He wasn’t used to being kissed this way, with open mouth and tongues tangled together, with hands tenderly cupping his face all the while.

Steve was so careful, so attentive in the way that he opened him slowly with cautious fingers, the way he pressed kisses to the line of Tony’s waist as he buried one, then two, then three fingers deep inside of him. How he managed to be so gentle while still making pleasure slam into Tony’s stomach with the force of a freight train, was completely beyond Tony’s wildest dreams.

He looked right at Tony as he entered him, slowly, his eyes watching Tony’s face vigilantly, as if he was making sure to catch even the tiniest flicker of discomfort. Not finding anything but complete bliss there, he stroked his thumb lightly once against the arch of Tony’s cheekbone, and pressed in further, deeper. The sounds Tony made were hardly human.

They moved together languidly, coming to meet each other with every thrust, every gasp and moan blending together like magic as they lost themselves in each other, stealing the breath from each other’s lips and kissing sweet promises into each other’s skin.

When Steve came, and then Tony moments later, they were clutched together as close as could be, heaving chests moving against each other with shaking breaths. Tony thought he had never felt closer to another human being in his life.

The thing was, he found himself wanting to be even closer.

Later, after they’d retracted from each other and had lazily cleaned up, they lay twined together, all limbs and elbows. For a while, Tony stayed awake, watching Steve’s face as it was shadowed with waves of sleep, his chest softly rising and falling with soft breaths.

That was the last thing he saw before drifting off to sleep, and his last thought before he was pulled into his slumber was that he hoped it would be what he would wake up to. 


	16. Waking Up Next to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third and final part of the date where Tony can't skate. Enjoy.

Steve woke up with the pleasant feeling of a warm body pressed against him, and heavy, sleep ridden breaths ghosting across his chest.

He always woke cleanly and waited to open his eyes until he was fully alert - old soldier habits die hard, a by-product of spending years in a war zone - but even then it took a few moments for his brain to process what was going on.

Then it all came back in a rush of bare flesh and moans curled around whispered promises, and he felt the softest of smiles curve the corners of his lips. His eyes fluttered open to see Tony sprawled out across the bed with his head resting on Steve’s stomach. His dark hair was a stark contrast against the paleness of Steve’s skin, and he could feel the faint scratching of his facial hair, which happened to be a lot more pleasant than he would’ve imagined. Tony’s face was relaxed with sleep, his lips parted only slightly, and his hair curled messily over his forehead.

 

Steve reached out with one hand to brush a particularly messy tuft of hair away from Tony’s face, and started to card his fingers lightly through his hair. Waking up to Tony was by far the best way to wake up.

There was an impossibly giddy part of him that was bursting with happiness, because he’d slept with Tony and, even better, he was waking up next to him. He got to see him all tangled in sheets with his hair all in disarray and red creases carved into his face from how he slept. He got to see the way that sometimes Tony’s eyelids would flutter lightly while he slept, and he would make these positively adorable sleepy noises when he shifted in his sleep. He didn’t snore like Steve had been somewhat expecting him to, just let out those little noises once in a while, otherwise silent except for the heavy breathing of a person deep in a slumber.

Steve knew he was grinning stupidly, but no one could see him (well, he wouldn’t have been able to stop it even if he was in a room full of people, but he could pretend), so he didn’t concern himself with that. He just bent forward, grinning like the smitten idiot he was, and brushed a light kiss across Tony’s forehead.

Tony murmured softly at the contact of flesh on flesh, and Steve could’ve sworn that he saw a sleepy smile flicker across his face for a moment, but it faded quickly and it was obvious that he was well and truly still asleep.

Steve would’ve loved to have stayed there in bed with Tony for hours, but his stomach was starting to rumble with hunger and considering Tony was flaked out on top of him, it was bound to wake him. So he gently ruffled his hair once more, dropped another kiss onto his cheek, and carefully shimmied out of bed. He grabbed a pair of pants from the floor and tugged them on, not bothering with a shirt.

"JARVIS?" he whispered, craning his neck to peer at the ceiling (a habit he knew was unnecessary, but did anyways).

"Yes, Captain Rogers?" JARVIS responded in his crisp voice, his voice lowered to match the quiet tone Steve had taken.

"Tell Tony when he wakes up I’m making breakfast in the communal kitchen? Please."

"Absolutely."

"Thanks, JARVIS," Steve responded, still insisting to be polite even though he knew he wasn’t an actual real human being, and padded out of the room.

When he stepped out of the elevator on the communal floor and padded into the kitchen in his bare feet, he regretted coming down at all. Or, at least, he regretted not putting on a shirt.

He walked in to find Clint and Bucky hunched over heaping mounds of frozen waffles, shovelling mouthfuls of syrupy dough into their mouths without an ounce of finesse. Both of them looked half asleep still, all rumpled and bleary eyes, and they barely glanced up when Steve walked in and went straight for the fridge.

"Morning," he greeted them, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand as he bent over to search the fridge for the milk. "We still getting the Christmas tree today?"

He got no answer, so when he found the milk and pulled it out, he turned around with a question waiting on his lips, only to find that both Clint and Bucky were staring at him in wide eyed shock.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. They looked positively traumatized.

"Is that what I think it is?" Clint whispered to Bucky, his mouth open in shock.

"They’re really faint, maybe we’re imagining it," Bucky responded, also ignoring Steve’s question.

"No, no," Clint insisted frantically, and he was smacking Bucky lightly on the arm as he spoke. "That’s what it would look like with his crazy fast healing, right?"

"Shit," Bucky breathed.

"Would you two mind telling me what’s going on?" Steve demanded, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

His bare chest.

Just as Clint started speaking again, he was filled with a sense of foreboding dread, because he knew exactly what he was about to say.

"Don’t be alarmed, but I’m pretty sure those are the remnants of scratches all over your back, and you have what looks to be what’s left of a hickey the size of America on your neck."

Steve clapped a hand to his neck, and felt himself burn with a blush. Not that he was embarrassed exactly, he really wasn’t as old fashioned as people thought he was, but he certainly wasn’t used to wearing his sex life as physical evidence all over his body.

Clint hooted and Bucky snickered behind his hand before stuffing another too large mouthful of waffle into his mouth, and Steve wanted to kick both of them.

"So," he said as casually as possible, "the Christmas tree?"

It was a feeble attempt, and it didn’t work.

"Man I hope this means the date went well and you slept with Stark," Bucky said, accentuating his statement by pointing his fork at Steve, "the unresolved sexual tension between you two was driving me insane."

"It was driving everyone insane," Clint snorted, "even Bruce."

"It wasn’t that obvious, was it?" Steve asked miserably. He’d been trying to not be too out in the open about his feelings for Tony, and he’d thought he’d been doing pretty well. Apparently not.

"You were both complete idiots," Clint said. "Thor noticed."

"Crap." Steve grumbled, and then sighed, turning back to the fridge, grabbing all the ingredients he’d need for pancakes. "So I was thinking we could go to this place I saw last week, they have these gorgeous trees, it’s on-"

"I can’t believe Steve got laid last night," Clint interrupted, and then they were laughing again, leaving Steve wondering how he ended up with friends who were such idiots.

"It’s about time, lover boy," Bucky said, and Steve could practically hear that smirk in his voice. He turned around and jabbed the spatula he’d just grabbed from the drawer in their direction.

"Now listen you two, you better quit it before Tony comes in, so help me-"

"Morning handsome," Tony’s voice sounded out from the doorway, timing his arrival perfectly.

"Morning, Tony," he said weakly, and looked over to give him a smile as he dropped his arm with the spatula. Well, at least he didn’t look as bad as Tony. Without the supersoldier serum, his neck was littered with red marks that could be nothing but the evidence of Steve attacking him with his mouth.

Tony smiled back and crossed the room to wrap his arms around him, and Steve noticed with a fresh blush blossoming across the back of his neck, that Tony was wearing only his boxers and Steve’s shirt that he’d tossed on the floor last night.  He’d have to tell him later how much he appreciated that sight.

"What, Tony doesn’t get a ‘handsome,’ back?" Clint asked, faux innocently, and Steve shot a glare at him over Tony’s head, who was now leaning against his chest with his arms looped loosely around Steve’s waist, and leaning back to grin at him.

"Shut up, Clint," Steve said absently, and leaned down to butt his forehead against Tony’s.

"Morning, baby," he murmured, quietly enough that it was only for him to hear.

Tony just grinned at him happily and kissed him softly. “They’re giving you a hard time, huh?”

"I just wanted to try and get them to come get the tree with me today," Steve sighed, and when Tony shifted his stance so that his arms went around Steve’s neck, Steve dropped his hands to the curve of his waist. Steve was quickly finding out that his hands fit perfectly there, and he was going to be taking advantage of that as much as possible, thank you very much.

"I’ll come with you," Tony said.

Steve quirked an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?”

"Of course," Tony answered, and they were grinning stupidly at each other, ignoring the two idiots jeering in the background. "Not gonna turn down an afternoon with you, even if it means dumb and dumber are tagging along."

"The whole team’s coming," Steve reminded him, but Tony just shrugged.

"Even better," he said, and then he was giving him that wicked grin Steve loved, that smirk that was all mischief and the crinkling around the corners of his eyes. "As long as I get you to myself tonight."

"Hmm," Steve mused, pretending to think about it, and Tony put on a exaggerated shocked expression.

"I think we can manage that," Steve said, and they were both smiling against each other’s mouths when he leaned in a moment later to kiss him again, and yeah. He was pretty sure he could manage that.  


	17. Anytime, For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (It's awful and short I'm sorry, don't read it I promise tomorrow will be better *hides*)

When Steve walked in to the house, the first thing he noticed was the way that he was struck with a wall of a burning scent, like someone had tossed something in the oven and had left it in there for two hours too long.

That could only mean one thing. Tony had been cooking.

"Tony?" he called, as he shrugged out of his jacket, and threw his keys on the nearest table. The house _reeked._ Believe it or not, it actually got worse the closer he got to the kitchen.

"Um," Tony's voice yelled from the kitchen, and Steve could practically hear the 'oh shit, he's home' in his voice, and Steve winced. He was dreading seeing how bad the damage was.

"How likely do you think it is that I'll be able to convince you to not come in here for another two hours or so?" Tony continued, and something clattered loudly, followed by Tony letting loose a string of profanities.

"Not likely at all," Steve told him, and then he entered the kitchen.

To find a scene of absolute _chaos._

Tony hadn't been cooking, he had been _completely tearing the kitchen apart._ Not only was the scent of burnt food so strong it actually made Steve curl his lips and wish that he could hold his breath for an hour, there was a mess everywhere. Dishes piled over in the sink, there was a charred hunk of _something_ sitting on the stove, something red and sticky coated the floor next to the fridge, and there was literally something greenish and lumpy on the ceiling.

And in the midst of it all, Tony stood in the middle of the kitchen, a sheepish look on his face and what looked like flour smeared on the front of his shirt. He was wringing a dish towel in his hands, and just kind of shrugged and gave Steve a nervous grin.

"Happy Christmas Eve?"

"Tony," Steve ventured, looking around him at the mess, not sure if he should be completely dismayed, or just laugh. He was kind of feeling both at the moment. "What the heck happened?"  

Tony let out a defeated sigh, and glanced around at the mess. "Well, see I tried to cook dinner, because its Christmas Eve and I _know_ that you wanted to do something nice even though you wouldn't say." 

"That's very sweet of you, Tony," Steve said, "but you could've just asked me to cook, you hate anything beyond boiling water. Even that tends to annoy you."

"Yes, well…" He just trailed off and shrugged sheepishly.

Steve shook his head and stepped forward, his face alight with amusement as he wrapped his arms around Tony's waist, pulling him close. Tony made a small noise of disgruntlement, but ultimately allowed Steve to pull him into a hug.

"Thanks," Steve said quietly into the crook of his neck, and Tony scoffed.

"Thanks for making a huge mess in the kitchen and ruining everything?"

Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to his neck. "For thinking of me."

"Oh," Tony said slowly, and dropped his chin onto Steve's shoulder, and curled his arms around him to hug him back. "Any time."

Steve kissed his neck again, and hugged him closer for a moment, before pulling back to look Tony in the face.

"Take out?" Steve asked, and Tony smiled easily at the suggestion.

"Thank god. Yes."

They spent Christmas Eve cleaning up the disaster in the kitchen, and then curled up on the couch with Chinese food and watched a crappy TV Christmas movie, and Steve didn't care one bit. Tony spent the entire night with his body pressed against his side, his head heavy on his shoulder. Steve couldn't have been happier anywhere else than he was with Tony curled up under his arm. He figured he could deal with the fact that Tony couldn't cook to save his life, because this would always be enough.


	18. Look Up

 

"Honey?"

Steve looked up from where he was sweeping his pencil across a page in his sketchbook, at the sound of Tony's voice. Tony had just flopped down and was sitting on the other end of the couch, and was looking at him with that familiar twinkle in his eye, that mischievous smirk on his mouth.

"Yeah, Tony?" he answered, his eyebrows rising in slight suspicion as started to scoot across the couch towards him, that grin still heavy on his lips. That look could only mean one thing; he was up to something yet again.

"Well," Tony ventured slowly, and now he was sidling right up next to him, his knee bumping against Steve's. "I think you should look up."

"Look up, what-" Steve's mouth snapped shut and he shook his head, because it suddenly dawned on him what Tony was doing. He didn't have to look up to know what he was referring to.

"Really," he asked, equal parts fond and exasperated, and Tony just gave him his best doe-eyed innocent expression. "Again? Aren't you going a little bit overboard?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Tony insisted.

"Right," Steve said shrewdly, and gave Tony  a pointed look. "So, when I look up, there isn't going to be mistletoe above me, yet again?"

"You're just going to have to look up to find out."

Steve gave an exaggerated sigh, and titled his head back to look up at the ceiling. Sure enough, just like the other three times that day, there was a bundle of green leaves and white berries above his head.

"Huh, would you look at that," he mused, entirely unsurprised, but before he could get any further, he suddenly had a lapful of Tony who was slinging his leg over his lap, pushing his sketchbook aside to make room for him to straddle Steve. His arms came up to wrap around Steve's neck, and suddenly Steve was nose to nose with that impish smile, staring back into those sparkling eyes.

Involuntarily, his hands dropped to the small of Tony's back, and he was pulling him so that he was snug against his chest. "Hello, there," he chuckled.

"Hey," Tony said softly, shifting in his spot across Steve's lap. "See, there's this tradition…"

Steve rolled his eyes and leaned in to bump his nose against the other man's. "I may have heard of it."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm."

"What are you going to do about it then?"

"Hmm," Steve pursed his lips and pretended to think. "Not sure."

" _Steve,_ " Tony said, his voice lilting close to something that could've been called petulant, and Steve grinned. "Just kiss me, damn it."

"As you wish," Steve conceded, his voice a low murmur, and leaned forward to press a kiss to Tony's lips.

Tony hummed in appreciation, and kissed back enthusiastically, his fingers tangling in Steve's hair in the way that he knew Steve loved, and he was rewarded with a faint shiver that Steve couldn't help. His hands braced against his back, fingers flexing against the fabric of his shirt as he pulled him in close, practically sweeping him tightly against his chest. He kissed Tony sweetly, who reciprocated beautifully, taking everything he was given and giving even more back.

When they broke apart, it was just enough that their lips hovered over each other's, still close enough that Steve could feel Tony's slightly heavier breath brush against his mouth. Tony was smiling still, but now it was less smug and wicked, more along the lines of dopey and well kissed. Steve suspected he looked the same way.

"You know you don't have to keep putting mistletoe around the house to kiss me, right?" Steve murmured, laughing softly, and pressed another quick kiss to Tony's mouth.

Tony just shrugged and assumed the innocent act again. "No idea what you're talking about, Rogers."

"Sure Tony," Steve replied, his tone light and soft with affection, and he leaned in to kiss Tony again. He didn't mind, of course; any opportunity he got to kiss Tony was one he would happily take.

********** ** ** **


	19. We Should Do That Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, just a heads up; there will be 25 chapters, but the last 2-3 will be a new years themed fic uploaded in a few parts, posted on new years eve. This is so that I can focus on what I have planned to post on Christmas Eve/Day, instead of uploading a bunch of crappy fics to catch up on the days I missed.

"I'm really sorry about asking you to do this," Steve whispered under his breath, the din of the Christmas party covering up his words so that only Tony could hear them. They were standing in the kitchen, and Tony was leaning into his side just slightly, while Steve had one arm hooked casually around his waist. He was warm and smelled faintly of a musky cologne with an undertone of engine grease and coffee if he leaned in close enough, and Steve was pretty sure that he shouldn't have found that so intoxicating. Really, he shouldn't be enjoying it at all, because even though they were attached at the hip as naturally as they could possibly manage, it wasn't real at all.

It was just so nice to be so close to him that he kept finding himself slipping and enjoying this far too much.

_It isn't real_ , he reminded himself firmly. _He's just doing you a favor_. 

"I keep telling you it's fine, Steve," Tony murmured back, his eyes flicking up to meet Steve's briefly. "It's not a big deal."

"Still," Steve groused, biting his bottom lip to stifle a sigh. "I'm sure there's a million places you'd rather be tonight."

Tony gave him his familiar smile, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made Steve's insides tingle every time, without fail. "Can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be than at your mother's Christmas dinner party, pretending to be your boyfriend."

Steve knew he was teasing, he could tell by the familiar quirk at the corner of his mouth and the way there was a laugh hovering just under the surface of his tone, but for a moment he almost let himself believe that he was being honest, that he really did want to be there with him just as much as Steve did.

He hadn't meant for it to happen, really; his mother had just been looking at him so expectantly when she'd asked why he was spending so much time with Tony lately, knowing the massive crush that Steve had harboured for him for years longer than they'd even been friends. He'd spent more than one evening pouring his heart out to her about the dark haired genius with the smile that could light up a whole room who sat two seats away from him in that drafty university classroom.  So, since she knew far too much, he'd slipped up, answering her too vaguely and becoming too flustered for her to interpret the situation as anything else besides them dating. She'd looked so happy for him, breaking into a huge smile and rushing forward to pull him into one of her trademark crushing hugs, that he just couldn't manage to tell her that no, in fact, they weren't together.

Even though he wished they were to the point where it was more than a little bit ridiculous.

So he'd forced himself to ask Tony to attend his mother's annual Christmas dinner like she'd insisted, and since Tony was always up for the general idea of mischief, he very happily agreed.

Steve had been pining for him since high school, he couldn't really help but enjoy the faux relationship for just one night.

"Quit fretting and enjoy being my arm candy for the night," Tony smirked and poked his side. Steve rolled his eyes fondly and let out a little laugh.

"Ever so modest," he commented.

"That's me," Tony said brightly, completely unapologetic.

"Love birds in the corner over there," a voice cut in loudly from across the room, and the two of them looked up. Steve felt a faint blush staining his cheeks as he noticed that the voice of Clint had drawn curious glances in their direction, vaguely interested looks assessing the two of them cozied up against the kitchen counter.

Clint was grinning his famous shit-eating smile at them, his face all gleeful  and flushed from the glass of wine he held in one hand. "I think if the happy couple is going to subject us to all of the sappy 'staring into each other's eyes' nonsense, they ought to give us a real kiss, huh?"

Steve felt his back stiffen, and he narrowed his eyes at Clint, very obviously telling him without words to keep his mouth shut, but he didn't back down. He raised his glass in the air, and next to him, Natasha jabbed him hard in the ribs, but he just dramatically hissed "ow" under his breath, still standing with his glass raised.

Steve glanced down at Tony to see him looking at Clint with an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes intent and focused. Luckily, he hadn't vaulted out of Steve's touch yet, he was still leaning into his side casually and had his finger hooked through one of his belt loops, but Steve still felt desperate to diffuse the situation before it went any further.

"I don't think that's a good-"

"Aye," Thor cut him off, booming as he thrust his own glass in the air, his face all alight with a jubilant smile. "A kiss from the happy couple!"

Of course, as soon as Thor opened his mouth, absolutely everyone was looking at them, including his mother who seemed to be having an in depth conversation with Bruce in the adjoined dining room. Steve felt himself start to squirm under all of the inquisitive eyes, all of them looking expectantly.

Steve's last hope of being able to shrug it off and hope that everyone lost interest faded into nothingness when Thor started to tap the side of his glass with a fork, sending the sharp clanging noise of metal striking glass through the room. It only took a brief moment for  

"Sorry," Steve whispered, looking down at Tony with a sincere apology in his eyes. Tony didn't seem to be too concerned, he was just watching him carefully, his eyes flickering from staring into Steve's, to his lips, and then back again.

Spurred on by the clinking of utensils against glasses in the room, Steve bit back a groan of frustration, and then when he got a small smile and a nod of permission from Tony, he quickly swooped down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"None of that nonsense," a voice called out, and Steve felt his ears burn, "give him a real kiss."

Steve wanted to scream, because he both wanted to just sweep Tony into his arms then and kiss him senseless, audience and the false act be damned, but at the same time Tony was looking at him so intently, and the last thing in the world he wanted was to make him uncomfortable. He may have been beyond infatuated with the guy, but he wasn't going to kiss him without Tony's explicit desire for it to happen.

"Better give the audience what they want," Tony laughed lightly, but Steve didn't miss the faint uncertainty in his tone. He couldn't want to do it, and there was no way Steve would make him.

"You don't have to," he told him, his voice low and his fingers flexing lightly in reassurance where his hand rested on his hip.

Something flickered across Tony's face then, something sharp and almost seeming to be annoyed, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared back up at Steve. He was about to say something again, to reassure Tony that he would think of something to say to everyone to make them let it go, to back off and leave the two of them alone.

He didn't get a chance to, because a look of steely determination lit up in Tony's eyes then.

"For goodness sake, you are so clueless, Rogers, I want to," Tony growled, and suddenly there were firm hands grasping at the front of Steve's sweater, and he was being pulled in. Before he was able to fully process an actual thought, there were warm, firm lips pressed against his own.

Steve managed to register the sound of appreciative hooting around them, a faint smattering of applause, and then his brain completely shorted out. He felt a little bit faint and sort of like he blacked out for a moment, because _Tony was kissing him._

At first, since Steve wasn't an overly active participant right away, it was really just Tony's lips pressed hard against his own, not anything more than the mashing together of flesh on flesh. Tony's hands were still buried in the fabric of his shirt, his head tilted back just enough so that he could lean into Steve's space, very effectively stealing the breath right from Steve's mouth.

Then, all at once, Steve became very  aware of the situation - Tony's mouth firm against his own, hands tugging him down, faint breath ghosting across his lips - and his brain suddenly came back online all at once. With a frantic, surprised noise deep in his throat, let his hands settle against the curve of Tony's hips, and forced his lips to respond and kiss him back.

Once he did, Tony's touch softened a little bit, as if he had just been waiting for confirmation that Steve was going to reciprocate, and his lips slotted perfectly against Steve's. The kiss turned gentle then, everything else fading away around them as Steve moved his lips languidly against Tony's. He kissed him slowly, softly letting himself taste the sweetness of his mouth while he could. Tony let him, and Steve gave him back just as much as he took, letting himself melt into Tony's touch.

When they broke apart, Steve felt a little bit dazed, and Tony looked like he felt the same way, his pupils blown, and his lips still parted as though he was expecting Steve to lean back in again and kiss him for a second time. Steve was pretty sure he was bug eyed and grinning a little dopily, but Tony looked content and pleasantly flushed, so he couldn't bring himself to care.

It seemed then that everyone had lost interest in them, everyone turning back into their own conversations, as though they were turning their backs to let them have the moment to their own. Steve almost found it funny, because the moment had been for them, and yet he had managed to steal it all for his own, with not a single regret.

"Do you?" Tony asked after a long moment of them just looking at each other, his voice laced with a hesitancy that Steve wasn't used to hearing in his voice.

He felt like he was spinning, a little bit. Tony was asking _him_ if this was what he wanted.

"Yeah," he assured him, and Tony visibly relaxed. "I do."

"I think we should do that again," Tony breathed, and Steve felt the goofy smile on his face grow just the tiniest bit more.

"Yeah," he whispered back in agreement, and dropped his head so that their foreheads rested against each other's. Tony's hands were still on his chest, clutching at his shirt, and Steve still had his hands over the dip of Tony's waist. "Yeah, I think we should."  


	20. Christmas Sweaters Are An Eyesore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had a busy day, so have a short snippet of some superfamily fluff. Poor Steeb.

"Sarah could you please at least try to sit still? It's just for a few minutes, come on."

"I am sitting still," Sarah pouted, and settled back against her chair with a rather petulant expression on her face. "You're takin' so long Papa."

"Yeah, Papa, hurry up," Peter whined from his spot next to her. He tugged at the front of his sweater and gave his father a displeased look. "The sweater itches."

Steve sighed from where he stood on the other side of the room, fiddling with the camera and the tripod, trying to get the framing just right, taking into account the placement of the lights in the room and the angle. He wanted it to look good, but his subjects seemed to be getting rather antsy.

"Be patient," Tony sighed, and pulled a very petulant, squirming Peter into his lap. "We'll be finished in a few minutes, okay?"

Steve scoffed at that and his eyes flicked up to pin Tony with a look. "Interesting to hear you tell someone to be patient."

"Hey," Tony shot back, grinning at him as he fought to keep Peter still in his lap. "I'm as patient as they come."

"Once you tried to toast your bread on an open flame from your bunsen burner down in the shop, because you didn't want to take the time to go upstairs to use the toaster like a normal human being."

Tony shrugged, holding Peter tightly against his chest. "I was in a rush."

"Mmm," Steve hummed, "if you say so, honey."

"Papa, the sweater itches," Sarah announced loudly, and looked at Steve with accusing eyes. If she hadn't been pint sized and only just approaching six years old, it might've been almost intimidating, but as it was, it was bordering on adorable.

"The sweater is fine, Sarah," Tony shushed her, but she just turned her glare up at him.

"You said you hated the sweaters," she accused, and Tony made a choked noise.

"I did not," he began, but Peter was squirming wildly again, and Sarah was plowing on in that ever so determined voice of hers.

"You did."

"No.."

"Daddy," Peter whined, turning in his arms to look up at him, "you did, you said that they were ugly and uncomfortable, and that we just had to wear them anyways because it would make Papa happy."

Tony's face was drawn now in exasperation, and maybe a little bit of sheepishness, as he looked up at Steve.

"Busted," Steve told him, flashing him a grin between flicking between the settings menus.

"They're not that bad," Tony said feebly, and Steve just looked at him, the corner of his mouth curled up in a knowing smile. 

"Daddy," Peter shrilled, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"You can't complain anymore, not after outing me like that."

Peter pouted up at him, but Tony just narrowed his eyes.

"Thirty seconds, okay guys?" Steve pleaded. He decided that was good enough, because he was about to lose the kids to irreversible crankiness and he didn't want the family Christmas cards to feature pictures with two tear stained children. He set the timer, bit back a sigh because that just had to be good enough, and started to his spot next to Tony. 

"Okay, it's gonna go off any second now," Steve told them as he slid into his spot. "If you smile then we get it over with and you won't have to sit here anymore."

Needless to say, all three of them sat perfectly still while they waited for the camera to flash. 

As soon as the camera went off, the kids looked up at Steve with hopeful eyes.  

"Go on," he sighed, and Sarah vaulted off her chair, followed very quickly but Peter who clambered out of Tony's lap. They scampered out of the room, tearing their sweaters off as they ran. 

"They're not that bad," Tony attempted as Steve stood up to dismantle the camera and tripod. 

Steve gave him a look of disbelief, and one eyebrow arched up. "Tony, they're hideous. I know they're awful."

As he spoke, he grabbed the hem of the sweater and pulled it off, instantly feeling the relief of the scratchy material leaving his skin. Damn, that itched. 

Tony just blinked at him, sitting there confused in his red and green monstrosity. "What are you talking about?"

"The sweaters," Steve said plainly, gesturing to Tony. "They're horrible."

"Then why did you make us wear them?" Tony demanded, and then he was standing, tearing the sweater off too, scratching at his arms as soon as it was discarded on the floor. "I swear that thing gave me a  _rash._ "

"Because Thor knit them," Steve told him. "And you're going to be the one in the doghouse when the kids inevitably tell him how much you hate the sweaters." 

Tony may or may not have blanched a little bit. "Oh no."

"Yup."

"He's going to give me the puppy dog eyes," Tony groaned, and Steve just shrugged at him. 

"Probably." 

"I'm never telling the kids anything ever again," he said mournfully, shaking his head. He was still scratching his arms. 

"Oh, so you're okay with me knowing the sweaters are horrible, but not Thor?" Steve teased, coming up in front of Tony to still his hands. The scratching was just making him itchy too. 

Tony scoffed. "I'm immune to those puppy dog eyes of yours now." 

Steve gave him an incredulous look, and Tony immediately backtracked. "Okay, maybe not. But you won't mope for a week, and you'll love me anyways."

"Damn right I will," Steve smiled at him, and dropped a quick kiss onto his lips. "Let's just hope the kids don't tell Thor."

"They will," Tony grimaced. 

"Yeah," Steve agreed, and patted Tony's shoulder sympathetically. "They will." 


	21. Saved My Heart For You Pt1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Christmas proposals are my JAM. So this is kind of a stand alone fic, but I'm posting it here AS WELL as on its own. I just didn't want anyone to miss it if I didn't post it to this collection. Tomorrow's (Christmas) fic will be the follow up on the next day.

Tony had been trying to propose to Steve for months.

He'd thought of it one day, a rather unspectacular day, when they were sitting curled up on the couch, with Tony resting his head on Steve's shoulder while they watched The Lion King for the third time (Steve had sworn that he wouldn't cry again, but of course he did). Clint was flaked out on the floor in front of them, head resting against Natasha's knees, who was leaning on the other side of Steve. Bruce was curled up at the end of the couch next to Natasha, and Thor was laying on his stomach in the middle of the floor, staring up at the screen with rapt attention.

Steve had his arm around Tony, his hand braced lightly against the bare flesh of his arm, and Tony had one hand resting against the warmth of Steve's thigh. They always sat like that, for the entire year that they'd been together, with Tony all tucked up into a little ball next to him whenever he could (it turned out, Tony was an aggressive cuddler, and took every opportunity to have those massive tree trunk arms tight around him), and Steve holding him safe and close against his side.

It was that, the fact that Tony felt so safe in Steve's arms, that got him. Tony had never liked to consider himself to be a weak person, he could take care of himself. He'd been scared before, yes, many times. He lead a dangerous life, fear wasn't optional, but the stubbornness ingrained into his personality didn't allow him to let anyone else try to take care of him. He didn't like being coddled, and even when he craved it, he turned it away. He didn't like feeling weak, he didn't like feeling soft and like he needed someone to look after him.

With Steve, it was different. He wrapped those arms around him, those strong, muscular arms that were far more gentle than was to be expected considering their brute strength, and he felt protected, but not weak.  He was Iron Man, he knew Steve knew that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Steve was his teammate, his leader,  his confidante, his best friend - he knew damn well that Tony was capable of taking care of himself.

He didn't make Tony feel safe because he didn't think Tony had the capabilities to function, he didn't protect him because he was a commodity, he didn't make Tony feel like he was being too greedy by taking his comfort and warmth. Steve gave himself willingly to Tony because he wanted to. Because he loved him.

Tony didn't mind being held when it came to Steve. In fact, he thought that he'd happily spend a lifetime in that man's arms.

That's what started it.

Sitting in the common room of the Avengers tower with a team of superheroes lounging in the pajamas, watching children's movies while they lived permanently on call for the safety of the world, he realized that this was the most content he'd ever been in his entire life, and damned if he was going to let that slip him by.

He had the ring made in the morning, and started planning right away.

See, he never had a moment of doubt about asking Steve to marry him once he decided that he was going to. Once he decided, that was it. He was going to ask.

The problem was; how?

He took Steve on an absurd amount of dates spanning the next couple months; spontaneous trips to Paris that Steve insisted were far too extravagant, entire restaurants reserved for the two of them to have a nice night alone, he even tried to cook once. That had been a disaster, he'd almost jabbed Steve in the eye with a fork, and he got tomato sauce on the ceiling. It was his first and last attempt at cooking.

Then there was the time where they had a picnic in his workshop, and because of Dummy (he was on clean-up duty for a week after that), the sprinklers went off. They, and the food that Tony had carefully picked out by Steve's taste, were completely soaked. Granted, any opportunity Tony got to see Steve laughing and in a drenched white t-shirt that clung to his muscles deliciously, he wasn't going to complain about. He was more than happy to take advantage of relieving Steve of that pesky wet shirt, and what followed was more than a little bit enjoyable.

Still. He'd been trying to  _propose_ , not bang his super enhanced boyfriend.  

So he tried over and over to pop the question. He was almost down on one knee more times than he could count, but it never felt like the right time. Whether it was an interruption that threatened the end of the world, or a near blinding experience, or him simply deciding it wasn't the perfect moment and ending up pretending he needed to tie his shoe, something always getting in the way. He planned it a dozen times over, he had a speech planned perfectly in his head, learned it word for word to the point where he was sure that he was saying it in his sleep. He was so prepared. He planned it more times than he had ever planned anything in his entire life. He figured, Steve was worth the effort. He was more than worth it.

When he finally did it though, it was in a completely impulsive moment, and he was pretty sure he'd nearly given Steve a heart attack.

They'd just been called out, bleary eyed and groggy as they were dragged from their beds on Christmas Eve to save New York for the fifth time that year, a lovely Christmas present from a scorned Loki who escaped from his prison in Asgard just in time to give planet earth a nice little gift for the holidays. They'd been in such a rush to get out the door when the signals went off that Tony ended up putting on his suit in a pair of Captain America boxers, and for some reason, Steve was wearing a Santa hat for the majority of the battle. He only realized he was wearing it when the press started taking pictures and Thor ever so kindly complimented on his magnificent head gear.

Tony almost expected Steve to turn as bright red as the hat as he pulled it off, but instead he plucked it from his head with a laugh, and handed it to the nearest reporter. He certainly made her Christmas; she plopped it on her own head and finished the rest of her interview with the dopiest expression on her face. Tony was pretty sure she was going to take it home and kiss it before she went to sleep every night.

Well, Tony didn't exactly blame her. It was  _Steve_ after all.

So they saved the world again, everyone was grateful, and Christmas was salvaged from the wreckage after all.

But, Tony may or may not have been in the doghouse by the end of the battle.

See, it wasn't really his fault. There had been an attack, an energy blast that could've been potentially fatal, and it had been fired right at Steve. Tony knew they could pack quite the wallop, and Steve had had his back to it, fighting off another alien creature by battering it with his shield, and if Tony hadn't swooped in at the last minute, it would've struck him square in the back.

When it came to Steve's safety, there was never even the slightest moment of a second thought. So, of course he leapt in front of the blast, he didn't even need to think about it. Of course Steve was grateful, profusely grateful. However, Tony was in the doghouse because when he leapt in the way of the attack, he ended up with the energy blast right in the center of his chest. A direct his to the arc reactor, and he'd gone down like a sack of bricks.

The world had gone a little bit foggy, there was this immense pain in his chest as the suit flickered somewhere between functional and non functional. He ended up on his back on the debris in the street, and his ears were filled with the sounds of Steve's frantic shouting and his hands on his shoulders, shaking and trying desperately to communicate with JARVIS.

All and all, it wasn't that big of a deal. He'd had much, much worse, and he was in near perfect condition not long after. Hardly any damage done, he'd just given Steve a mighty scare when the suit shuttered and went out of commission for a moment.

So, of course, he wasn't too impressed.

It wasn't really any different from normal. They always fought about this; Tony did something reckless and Steve reamed him over it (sometimes in more way than one, angry sex was sort of a hobby of theirs). It was a regular thing, and when they all tumbled into the tower after debrief, the sun was setting on Christmas Eve to the sound of Steve and Tony arguing. Loudly.

It was normal, they did this often. They'd have a near death experience, fight it out, and then move on. They didn't shy from bickering, they'd long since accepted it as a part of their relationship.

What wasn't normal, was when Steve said;

"You have got to stop risking your life for me, I don't want to live a life without you in it Tony," his eyes blazing and his mouth set in that familiar stubborn line, and Tony just deflated a bit.

Yeah. That, instead of all the stupidly perfect planned out dates he'd put together, was the right moment to propose.

It was then, when Steve said those words with his face drawn tight with emotion, his voice raw and crackly, that it clicked.

It just figured that the right time to propose happened to be when they were sweat stained, bruised and bloodied. Tony should have know. He should have expected as much, with the lives they lead.

So with all the planning, all the careful thought and waiting for the perfect night to ask the question, he ended up blurting it out in the middle of the communal living room, surrounded by a team of battle weary superheroes.

"Marry me," he said. It was a little too loud, the words tumbling from his mouth like they couldn't stand being inside of him for a moment longer. He felt a little frantic, actually, looking at Steve standing there in his hero regalia, with grime and blood streaked across his face, and he just had to. He needed this man for forever.  "Steve, marry me?"

There was a moment of complete silence, Tony could feel all the eyes in the room turning to them and staring, and it was like all the breath had been sucked out of the room. Steve was staring at him with eyes wide as saucers and his mouth gaping open just the slightest bit, like he'd forgotten to breathe or he wasn't sure how to get his mouth working again. All the concern and anger had drained out of his face, completely forgotten, and in place of it was utter shock.

Tony would be lying if he said that he wasn't scared in that moment, in that moment of dead quiet, when all the noise in the room disappeared and left behind a silence pregnant with shock. It was terrifying. He was pretty sure that he could hear his heartbeat drumming wildly in his ears, and his already limited lung capacity felt like it was being depleted at a rapid pace. He was sure that his face looked just as shocked as Steve's; hell, he hadn't expected himself to blurt out his proposal in the spur of the moment, either. He's surprised himself almost as much as he probably surprised everyone else.

So, yes, he was scared. But he wouldn't have taken it back for anything in the world.

"What?" Steve asked, his voice low and quiet, the word just the tiniest whisper, as if he dared not speak any louder, for fear of shattering the moment that had fallen heavy and thick over all of them.

"What?" Clint repeated, his voice just a tad squeaky. "Stark did you just-  _ow._ " There was a thump, and Clint's voice just dropped off with a disgruntled noise; Tony assumed that Natasha had most likely jabbed him in the ribs or something to shut him up. It didn't matter, Tony didn't pay them any attention. All he cared about was that Steve was looking at him like he was on the verge of falling, and Tony had just asked him to marry him.

Tony cleared his throat, gathered the very slimmest glimmer of courage he had left in his bones, and stepped forward. He reached out one hand, and found Steve's with his own. Steve willingly curled his hand around Tony's as he tangled their fingers together, but other than that he didn't move.

"Steve, I love you," Tony told him, and his voice sounded so raw and scratchy, but he didn't care, he  _didn't care._ "I love you so damn much, marry me."

"Are you being serious," Steve asked, his tone cautiously hopeful, but Tony knew him; behind the frozen calm on his face, he could see something brimming behind his eyes, demanding to be set free.

Tony let out a laugh that felt dry and sharp in his throat, a little bit giddy. God, his head was spinning. "I've never been more serious about anything."

"I…" Steve swallowed hard, seeming to be slowly coming back. "Come with me," he commanded, and his fingers tightened around Tony's hand.

"Sure, great. Okay," Tony agreed shakily, and all of a sudden he was being dragged along by a very determined super-soldier. Before he was pulled out of the room, he saw all the wide, shocked eyes staring at him, and if he didn't feel like his heart was just about to jump out of his chest, he'd probably had laughed at the sight. Even Natasha looked a little bit dazed. He'd have to remember that; the day that he'd managed to shock Natasha Romanoff.

Steve didn't release them until they were standing in the kitchen, and he walked over to the window. He stood with his back to Tony for a moment, his hands resting on the table that was tucked into the little breakfast nook there. His broad shoulders were loose in his uniform, and Tony ached so badly to walk up and run his fingers over the hard ridge of his shoulder blades, let his fingers fit into the crook of his neck like he knew Steve loved. He wanted to touch him so badly, but he thought that maybe Steve just needed a moment. A moment to process. So he stayed still.

Finally, Steve turned, first with a glance over his shoulder with eyes bright and sharp with something that made Tony's stomach curl. Then, with his full body, and he leaned back against the table as though he wasn't able to hold himself up without the support.

"God you're…" Steve broke off and shook his head in disbelief. Tony wondered if he should be concerned, but he hadn't run away yet, so maybe this was okay. Maybe it was alright. "You're really proposing to me?"

"Yes," Tony confirmed, and grinned at him, wide and bright. "I've been trying to propose to you for months, actually."

"Months?" Steve demanded a little breathlessly.

"Yup," Tony said, "I even have -  _oh._  Hold on." He held up one finger, suddenly remembering the most important part. "I have…"

He trailed off, dropping his hand to dig into the pocket in the under armor, the one where he'd kept that precious piece of metal safe and close to his skin since he'd had it made.

He found it with relieved, frantic fingers, and pulled it out. The weight in his hand was comforting as he drew it out and brought it out into the light, glinting faintly blue from the arc reactor.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward until he was standing in front of Steve, his golden hero, and slowly dropped down onto one knee. He actually heard a murmured  _'oh my god,'_ and really, he couldn't blame Steve. He could hardly believe he was doing this either, but he was acting on impulse. That’s what Tony did, threw himself into everything head first recklessly. It seemed that even when he took the time to plan, his impulsive nature won out.

He held the ring up to Steve, and oh god he was shaking wasn't he. He could do this. He could. This was Steve, his beautiful and valiant Steve with the heart of gold who had chosen to be with the absolute mess that was Tony Stark and he had saved him in so many ways. Steve had done so much for him, the least Tony could do was get through a half decent proposal.

"Steve," he began, his voice catching on the name. "I've been carrying this around for months, but I've wanted you for longer than I can remember. We live such dangerous lives, and almost on a daily basis I'm scared of losing you, and I don't want to waste another moment not being married to you. God, I would marry tonight if you'd have me, I'd marry you right this second-"

"Yes," Steve cut in, the word sharp on an exhaled breath. Tony felt his heart constrict. "Yes, god yes. I want to marry you. I'd marry you right this second, for goodness sake, Stark, stand up and kiss me damn it."

Tony was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt when he vaulted to his feet, and he was still smiling when their lips crashed together, and he felt Steve's laugh skirt across his mouth, and they were kissing like they had thousands of times before, but this time it was while they're  _engaged_.

Steve's hands were in his hair, on his back, cupping the back of his neck, and Tony was leaning into him like his legs didn't know how to hold him up anymore, and he just couldn't stop smiling.

He kissed Steve with everything he had, and never wanted to stop.

Finally, they broke away with laughter on their breath, and Tony thought Steve right then, happy and dazed, was the most beautiful thing in the world.

And he was  _his_.

"Well," Steve said, his voice still giddy and happy, but the slightest bit teasing. "Are you going to put the ring on me, or what?"

"I'll definitely be doing that," Tony laughed shakily, backing away just enough so that he could reach between them to take Steve's hand in his own. With fingers trembling, he held that ring and pushed it onto Steve's waiting finger.

"It's from the first reactor," Tony told him, "the one I built in the cave. I had this whole speech prepared about how it saved my heart for you, but I went and blurted it out, so."

"It's beautiful," Steve murmured, and he looked so happy it made Tony's insides hurt.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve said, and then he bent down to kiss him. "Perfect," he whispered against his lips.

"You better have said yes, Steve, I swear to god," Bucky's voice rang through the room, and they broke apart, "that man's got money pouring out of his ears, be his damn kept man if you have to."

"Shut it, Buck," Steve shot out, but it sounded amused more than annoyed, and he was still smiling, not taking his eyes off of Tony.

"No he's right," Clint's voice joined in, "I'd marry Stark myself if he wasn't such an asshole."

With a sigh, and one last kiss to Tony's lips, Steve reluctantly turned to the doorway, seeing as it seemed like they'd been followed and currently had a nosey audience.

"You know we left the room to be alone, right?" Tony grumbled to the whole team was standing there, squished together as they spilled into the room. They were all grinning at them, especially Thor, who looked like his face was about to crack.

"I must congratulate you on your engagement," Thor exclaimed, striding forward with his arms spread wide.

"Oof," Tony said as the air was pushed out of his lungs when he and Steve both were swept up into Thor's arms. He crushed them both against his chest, and Tony squirmed indignantly while Steve just laughed.

"Put us down, Thor," Tony demanded, because his feet were no longer touching the ground, and he was so not okay with that.

Thor obliged, still grinning at them jubilantly, while the others gathered around them. Bruce patted Tony on his back, quietly wished him well. Bucky grabbed Steve by his neck in an affectionate headlock, while Natasha jabbed at his ribs.

"Congrats on not choking on your tongue, Stark," Clint smirked at him, but he slung an arm around Tony's shoulders and he looked massively pleased, so Tony knew that in his way, that was actual well wishing.

"Shall we begin with the festivities post haste?" Thor asked enthusiastically.

Tony frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"We heard you speak of marrying before the night is out. If that is to happen, we must begin immediately," Thor explained.

"Thor," Natasha said gently, "I don't think that's what they meant."

"Yeah." Tony clapped a confused Thor on the back. "Not sure how you do things back in Asgard, but for us mere mortals, it takes a little longer than that to plan a wedding."

"Why is that?" Thor asked, looking equal parts confused and curious.

"Cake, flowers, venue, guests…" Tony trailed off with a shrug. "We're talking months in the future, bud. Be patient."

"Plus, Tony's going to need to get his outfit hand sewn in the finest silk in all the land," Bucky said flatly, and Clint snickered.

"Funny, Barnes," Tony said, and he was about to get a retort back, but then Steve was talking.

"Tony," Steve said slowly, turning to him with that expression on his face that Tony knew meant the gears were turning in his head, fine lines creasing in between his brows. "Do you want all of that?"

"All of what?"

"The…" Steve gestured with his arms wide. "The big wedding."

Tony shrugged. "Don't you?"

Steve looked at him carefully, his lips thin and his eyes were clouded with thought. "I don't know," he confessed. "I did once, maybe."

"And now?" Tony asked, not quite sure where Steve was going with this.

Steve seemed to think hard for a few moments, everyone in the room watching him carefully, and then he took Tony's hands in his own.

"I know you Tony," he said firmly, fixing Tony with that focused gaze, "and I don't need that. Like you said, I'd marry you right this second if you'd have me."

There was a beat, and then; "Where are you going with this?" Tony asked suspiciously.

"Maybe not tonight," Steve reasoned, "but what about tomorrow? Sam will be here, and so will Rhodey and Pepper… who else is there to ask?"

Tony blinked. "What?"

Steve's smile grew. "Actually, now that I think about it, it would be perfect, getting married on Christmas Day."

"I…" Tony didn't finish. It was his turn to stare stupidly in shock.

Steve squeezed his hands, and he was smiling, he was smiling so bright like the sun, his eyes were dancing and Tony thought that he might melt under his gaze. "Tony, this is my family - our family - and we have everything we need right here. We'll all be together, and I don’t want to spend a moment longer than I have to not being married to you."

He stopped talking then, and squeezed his hands tightly. He was smiling softly, hair still streaked with soot and hanging limply over his forehead, and there was a cut carved into the high arch of his cheek. He looked tired, he looked like he'd been sent down to hell today and had crawled back on his hands and knees. His uniform was torn in a few places, revealing half healed wounds that peeked out from underneath the fabric. He looked tired and beaten, just as did the rest of the team, and Tony was sure he looked the same. It was hardly ideal, or romantic, and not at all what Tony had planned, but Steve was looking at him like he'd managed to capture the essence of life in the form of one person, and he couldn't believe that he'd be lucky enough to find to find him he had better not ever let him go.

No one had ever looked at him like that, and he knew he was looking back at Steve the same way.

He wanted forever with this man, right now.

It wasn't even a question.

"So a Christmas wedding it is, then?" Tony said faintly. Steve looked like he'd swallowed the sun, and suddenly there were lips on his own, it only took a moment before Tony was kissing back with all of his might.

In the back of his mind, he wondered how he could have possibly managed to end up this happy. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the wedding tomorrow eeeeek, and lots of best friend/team mate bonding. <3


	22. Saved My Heart For You Pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *sheepishly hands this to you two days after christmas*

When Steve woke up on Christmas morning, it was with anticipation curling in his gut, and it took him a few moments to figure out why his stomach was in knots and his chest felt like it had no weight to it.

Then, he remembered all at once, and he was up and vaulting out of bed like he'd been burned, his eyes wide and a strangled sound coming from his mouth. As he kicked his way out of the blankets that had twisted around his legs in his sleep, he got all tangled up and ended up stumbling out of his bed, ending up in a disheveled heap on the floor. He landed flat on his ass with a squawk, and just sat there, dazed for a few moments.

Right. He was marrying Tony Stark today.

The night before had passed in a whirlwind; after the astonishing announcement, everyone had gone absolutely insane.

In the spur of the moment, Steve had forgotten about the fine details, the logistics of a spontaneous wedding, and there had been a moment of panic when he and Tony thought that it wouldn’t be possible. However, they were very quickly reassured when Natasha reminded them that they were living with a spy who could very easily obtain a marriage license at the drop of a hat, and for some reason, Clint was ordained and would be able to perform the ceremony. Bruce had surprised them by telling them all about his aptitude for decorations, and Thor had very enthusiastically promised to bring mead and other provisions from Asgard. Natasha appointed herself to making sure that the two husbands-to-be looked decent, and Clint scurried off to go write a speech for the ceremony.

Pepper and Rhodey arrived late the night before, both of them rushing forward to pull Tony into a smothering hug when he shouted "He said yes," and pointed at Steve, who raised his left hand to them. Pepper smacked Tony on the back of his head when they finally released him from their embrace for not calling her to tell her sooner, and Rhodey looked a little star struck and in shock as he glanced between Steve and Tony reverently, slowly saying that "His best friend was marrying Captain America."

Steve had blushed at the very obvious admiration, but gratefully accepted congratulatory hugs from both of them. Pepper, of course, went straight into business mode. Much to everyone's relief, she unofficially became the one in charge, and gave everyone their own tasks (Steve and Tony's only task being that they better not run off with cold feet during the night. Steve figured he could manage that).

When Sam arrived and heard the news, he'd grinned at Steve and clapped him on the back before pulling him into a hug. Then he turned to Tony, pointed at him, and told him that he better not hurt Falcon's sidekick, which got a laugh out of all of them, but Steve knew there was a faint glimmer of seriousness there. Between him, Bucky and Natasha - especially Natasha - he was concerned one of them would make Tony cry in their protectiveness of him.

But Tony had laughed too, and assured him that there was no way he could hurt Steve for fear of the "puppy dog eyes," and everyone nodded in agreement, while Steve sputtered indignantly.

It was all a weird, wonderful mess, and Steve could hardly believe it was happening.

The strangest thing about it all, though, was that he was in his own bed, in his old suite. He hadn't slept there in ages, it had been nearly half a year since he and Tony realized that they were sleeping together every night anyways, so they might as well just call it like it is and sleep in the same bed. The going back and forth between rooms had gotten to be a hassle, and really it didn't make sense for them to be apart, not when they so clearly were spending every night with each other. So Steve had moved up into Tony's suite, and had been sleeping in his - in their - bed ever since.

But, last night, when he'd yawned and kissed Tony's cheek before saying good night to the team, Natasha had looked him dead in the eyes and asked him if he really expected them to let him sleep with Tony the night before they got married.

Tony, of course, had protested profusely, claiming that they were the least traditional couple in existence and that they should be allowed to sleep together if they damn well pleased. But to his dismay, Steve agreed with Natasha, and told Tony that they could definitely manage a night separate from each other. Tony had looked at him with his face completely aghast as he kissed him good night and left the room, heading to his old suite for the night.

Waking up alone in his old bed was strange, but what was even stranger was that after tonight, there would be no reason for him to even have his own floor anymore, let alone his own bed.

Thinking of this, he was smiling dopily as he got up from his nest of blankets on the floor, and headed downstairs for a Christmas breakfast.

***

Unfortunately, in Natasha's opinion at least, since they decided to get married on Christmas, it wasn't really possible for them to not see each other at all before the actual wedding took place. Christmas morning was still happening, and they were obviously spending it together, so of course it was completely unavoidable.

Since they spent the night apart from each other, as soon as Tony walked into the kitchen that morning to find Steve at the stove cooking a massive pan full of eggs, he made a beeline for him. Steve felt a warm body colliding with his back, and firm were arms wrapped around his waist.

He chuckled and dropped his hand onto the two that were linked his over his stomach. He leaned back into the touch, and Tony made that familiar content humming noise.

"Hey handsome," Tony murmured into his ear, squeezing his arms around his hips briefly. "Missed you."

"I missed you too," Steve answered honestly. One night without Tony curled up next to him was more than enough. He gave the eggs one last stir before setting his spatula down so that he could turn around in the circle of Tony's arms.

Tony was grinning up at him happily as he turned to face him, and rested his arms over his shoulders.

Steve bent down to kiss him, dropping his hands to Tony's hips as easily and instinctively as though it was where they were always meant to be.

"I'm glad we won't have to do that again," Tony said when they parted, and Steve let out a soft laugh in agreement, kissing the tip of Tony's nose quickly. "Me too, baby."

Tony scrunched up his nose at that, a sight that Steve had always adored, his face going all petulant and secretly pleased like it always did when Steve was especially affectionate. "Sap," he said fondly.

"Yup," Steve murmured, and leaned forward so his head rested gently against Tony's forehead. "Your sap."

"Mine," Tony agreed, and there was that smile, that one that lit his eyes up and looked so natural and perfect on his face. Steve couldn't resist leaning in to taste it for himself.

"So is this going to be a thing?" A displeased voice cut into their moment, and they both begrudgingly looked up to see Clint glaring at him. He was sitting at the breakfast table, shovelling mouthfuls of cheerios into his mouth, looking at them accusingly. "Public nose kissing and forehead boops?"

Next to Clint, Bucky almost choked on his toast. He stared at Clint incredulously. "'Forehead boops'? Are you serious?"

"Well what would you call it?" Clint demanded defensively, glaring at him.

"Anything but that."

"It doesn't matter anyways," Natasha said stoutly from the other side of the table, where she was sitting with her knees drawn up in her reindeer pajamas, sipping at a mug of coffee. She looked at the two of them over the brim of the Hawkeye mug that was given to her as a gag gift that she used ironically (so she said, no one believed her).

"They've been like that for forever," she continued, "it's only going to get worse now that they're getting married."

"Great," Clint grumbled, and Bucky nodded in agreement.

"Just keep the sickening cuteness to a minimum, why don’t ya?" Bucky pleaded.

Tony shrugged where he was still pressed against Steve, who had his arms still wrapped around him and appeared to not have any intention of moving any time soon. "I'll be whatever I want with my Steve in my tower, thank you very much," Tony retorted, and then turned to Steve to kiss his cheek.

"'My Steve'?" Steve asked curiously, one eyebrow quirking up.

"Yes, my Steve," Tony said, and he reached for his hand to rub his thumb meaningfully over the ring on Steve's finger.

Steve grinned and hugged him closer, while Clint and Bucky made retching noises, and Natasha snickered softly under her breath.

They completely ignored them, of course. Their tower, their rules.

***

"Nervous?" Natasha asked, looking pointedly at where Steve was worrying at his lower lip.

Steve released his lip from the assault and gave a forced sigh and a shaky smile. "No. Well, I mean, yes I'm nervous, but I want to do this."

"Of course you do," Natasha said in her best duh voice. She started fiddling with his tie, tugging at it and adjusting it.

"I do," Steve repeated, more to himself than to Natasha, because his hands were shaking and saying it out loud made it feel more real. 

"Save it for the wedding, Rogers," Natasha quipped, which Steve responded to with a roll of his eyes. "Besides, there's no reason to be nervous, Stark's head over heels for you."

Steve smiled softly. "Yeah," he murmured, "I think he is."

"You better be sure that he is," Natasha told him, her eyes flicking up to meet his briefly before returning to her task of perfecting the tie around his throat. "You're marrying the guy in less than an hour."

"I know he is," Steve said. He shook his head ever so slightly, earned himself a glare, and he breathed a soft laugh. "He really is."

"Don't worry," Natasha assured him, gave the tie one last final adjustment before stepping back to admire her handy work. "Stark's proven that you're the one exception to his general dislike of antiques, so I think you're all good."

"Really?" Steve said, his lips curving up the slightest bit in amusement. "Making fun of my age on my wedding day?"

"Hold still, old man," she told him instead of responding, and then her hands where in his hair, brushing back the blond strands into position. He obediently stayed perfectly still, letting her fix him up to her liking.

"Unbelievable," he teased, and she ignored him; she was on a mission with his hair at the moment and that seemed to be far more important.

"You look sharp, man," Sam's voice came from the doorway. He was just about to turn to him, but Natasha gave him a look that told him that he'd better not move.

Instead he stood completely still, and a grin crossed his face that Sam couldn't see. "Thanks, Sam."

Sam was standing in front of them, his hand clapping down on his shoulder. "You ready for this?"

Steve let out a shaky laugh, and shrugged without thinking. Natasha smacked his arm.

"Sorry," he told her, and then to Sam, "as ready I'll ever be."

"Cold feet?"

"No." Steve shook his head. "Not even a little bit."

Sam squeezed his shoulder, then let his hand drop. "Good. Let's go get you married to Tony Stark then."

***

Steve was eternally grateful for Pepper Potts, because since no one else had seemed to think of it, she accepted responsibility for overseeing the speech writing that Clint had been appointed to.

Disaster averted. Steve was starting to understand the general reverence in everyone's eyes with they talked about Pepper. The speech was both eloquent and personal, as well as retaining the essence of Clint's rather unique personality. It was perfect. Thor cried openly, Bucky and Sam tried to hide their tears, and everyone chuckled at least once during the speech. All in all, Clint was a success.

They got married in the communal living room, which was decked in a mixture of flowers and twinkling lights, thanks to Bruce, who managed to make it look both Christmassy and like a wedding at the same time, without it seeming tacky or mismatched. Everything went together perfectly.

When Tony walked in to meet Steve where he stood in front of the Christmas tree, his body stiffly in parade rest as he waited for him, Steve was smiling so wide he thought his face might crack. Tony looked similar as he made his way towards him, looking sharp and dapper in his black tux, his eyes twinkling and the corners of his brown eyes all crinkled. When he reached Steve, he found Steve's hand with his own immediately, their fingers linking together like they had so many times before. Steve felt a jolt run between them at the touch, and they kept their fingers tangled together throughout the entirety of the ceremony.

He didn't take his eyes off of Tony the entire time, the pad of his thumb stroking the back of his hand as Clint spoke. Tony stared back, as if they were the only ones in the room, and Steve was having a hard time holding himself back from rushing forward and crushing him in an embrace. 

"I need the rings," Clint was saying, and Steve nodded, still staring at Tony, but then Natasha was standing next to him, pressing the coolness of his ring into his palm. He looked at her as she did so, mouthing a silent thank you to her. She gave him a soft look, not having to say anything out loud. She leaned in and kissed Steve's cheek, and gave him the sharp jerk of her head that was the nod that meant _see you on the other side._ Steve returned it, and she grinned, seemingly unable to help herself, and then turned to Tony to give him his ring. She kissed his cheek too, and went back to her seat after squeezing Steve's bicep one last time.

"Okay," Clint said loudly, clearing his throat. "So, Tony. Go ahead and say your vows, or whatever."

Tony rolled his eyes at his wording, and squeezed Steve's fingers.

"You need your cards, boss?" Happy asked, already standing and digging around in his pocket, but Tony was shaking his head.

"No," he said. "I'm just going to talk."

He took in a deep breath, and then he was talking, his voice wavering ever so slightly, but that steely determination Steve loved ever so much was vibrant in his face.

"When I met you, you drove me insane," Tony told him honestly, "You were a self righteous prick and I wanted to throw you off the hellicarrier."

"Uh, Tony," Clint interjected, "I'm all for skipping over the sappiness, but I'm pretty sure that at a wedding you're not supposed to insult your groom?"

"Hush," Tony told him dismissively, "I'm not done."

"Fine," Clint conceded, and waved for him to continue. "Go on."

"Thanks," Tony said drily, and rolled his eyes. Steve was grinning at him in amusement as he continued.

"I didn't know why you rubbed me in all the wrong ways," Tony admitted, "you just seemed to know how to hit all of my weak spots, how to strike all the right places to make me squirm."

He lifted one shoulder in a regretful shrug. "It took me a while to figure it out."

Tony paused, took another deep breath, and shook his head before going on.

"You saw through me," he murmured. "You knew me for less than a day and your wormed your way past all my defensive, touching places that I'd kept hidden for so long."

"Once I stopped resisting, which took a lot longer than I'd like to admit, I realized how amazing that was. That you were able to read me an open book, that you knew me without even realizing it. The best part was, you used that power to make me feel good about myself. You tore down all of my walls so that you could help me build something stronger in its place."

He gave him a soft little smile, and it was so loving and grateful that Steve felt a lump growing in his throat. He was not going to cry.

"You make me better," Tony whispered, and Steve's throat clicked as he swallowed, the earnestness in his voice striking right as his heart. "You make me want to better. You make me want to be known, I want to be known by you for forever. And I want to love you and give you everything I have for as long as you'll let me."

Now, Tony looked like he was about to cry, and as he finished, he sounded more than a little bit choked up, his voice watery and wavering.

"You deserve the world," he said, "and I'm going to spend my life loving you, and I hope I can be everything that you deserve. I swear, I promise, I'll try."

There was a long pause, Steve clutching at Tony's hand so hard he had to remind himself that Tony was breakable.

Steve's chest hurt with how much he loved this man.

Clint was the one who broke the silence, clearing his throat.

"Steve?" he said, and Steve kindly didn't comment on the watery nature to his voice.

"Yeah," Steve said quietly, waving Bucky off as he stepped forward to hand him his cards. He didn't have much to say. That was the thing about loving Tony, it was complex and wild and wonderful, but he could always narrow it down to one word.

"Home," he said, his voice raw. Tony's eyebrows raised curiously.

"That's what you are to me," he explained. "When I woke up, cold and lost and terrified, I had nothing. I had my entire life torn out of my hands, thrust into a life that wasn't mine, so far away from everything I'd ever known. How could I live with that?"

He let out a shaky breath, and he felt Tony's fingers tighten on his own. Always gave him strength, he did.

"Then there was you," he said, "so stubborn and sarcastic. Drove me crazy, but I loved it. You kept me on my feet. You made me feel alive after being dead for so long. You fascinated me. I admired you, but I also was fascinated by you as a person. I was happy to have you as a team mate."

"Then you let me in, and I knew you were important to me in ways I never would've imagined. You were… unfathomably important. I fell in love with your everything, and I finally felt less lost."

His voice sounded broken, but he didn't care. Tony was looking at him with wide, watery eyes, and he had to finish. He would.

"You gave me a home," he rasped. "You gave me a home in your smile, in your kiss, in the way you told me you loved me. You gave me a home, and a family. Things I never thought I'd have."

"You gave me you, and I am eternally grateful that I've been given the privilege of being the one who loves you for the rest of his life."

He exhaled when he finished, and Tony was biting into his bottom lip, his eyes frantic and big as saucers as he stared.

"I…" he began, but was stopped by a strangled noise from Clint.

"Oh just put the damn ring on him," Clint choked out from beside them, and they both laughed, giddy and wide mouthed.

Tony turned Steve's hand over gingerly, slipped the ring on his finger. Steve did the same for him, and then took both of Tony's hands in his own.

"Oh, right," Clint backtracked, "Do you take each other? I'm supposed to ask that."

"Of course."

"I do."

They both spoke at once, both too impatient to wait to say it, the words bleeding with each other, mixing and overlapping. Steve was smiling dopily at Tony, who was smiling back at him with the same expression, bright and goofy and so blissfully happy.

He was only half listening when Clint said, "You can kiss each other now." He was already leaning in, because he couldn't wait another moment to do just that.

***

"You are _not_ carrying me, Steve, I swear to god."

"And why not?" Steve demanded, loosening his tie from where it was tight around his throat. Natasha had really put it on him securely, it'd been driving him insane all night.

"Because you're just not!" Tony said firmly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes narrowed.

They were standing in the elevator, having just left the Christmas/Post Wedding festivities; which included the consumption of Thor's mead, and everyone clinking their glasses every five minutes so they would (willingly) kiss. They were on their way up to their suite, and Steve's blood was humming with excitement and anticipation, his whole body thrumming it.

Tony was being difficult though, in purely Tony-like fashion, and refusing to let Steve carry him over the threshold once the elevator stopped. 

"You know," Steve mused, "I could very easily just pick you up and toss you over my shoulder if I wanted to."

"You wouldn't."

Steve shrugged, noncommittal. "Who knows. But I'd appreciate it if you just let me carry you over the threshold."

"Why is that?"

"Because I just know that if I carry you in there over my shoulder, I'm going to have to listen to you whining for months about how I'm trying to undermine your last shred of dignity."

"Now hold on a second-"

"And," Steve continued, talking over Tony, "I know you're just putting on a front right now, and you actually really want me to do it."

Tony scoffed. "That is absolutely not true at all."

"Oh but it is," Steve countered, and brushed his thumb against the curve of Tony's jaw, over that telltale twitch that always showed up there when he was pretending like this. "I think I know you pretty well. I am married to you after at all."

Tony gave him a shrewd smile. "I don’t think that you can use that excuse just yet, Rogers."

"Stark."

Tony blinked. "What?"

"Rogers-Stark," Steve repeated.

That was the exact the moment that the playful façade faded, and his expression softened in realization.

"Right," he murmured, his voice gentle.

Steve stepped forward purposefully, and took Tony's left hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the ring there that matched the one on his own hand.

"What do you say, Mr. Stark-Rogers," Steve whispered, leaning in close so that the words brushed against his ear. "Let me carry you into our room?"

Tony shivered, and then he leaned back to glare at Steve.

"That's a low blow," he told him, deadpan.

"Yup," Steve said cheerfully, "it most certainly is."

Tony glared at him for a few more moments, and Steve stared back, knowing his face was all creased in teasing amusement.

Eventually, Tony sighed and his shoulders dropped. "Fine," he grumbled.

Steve beamed, and there was only a fraction of a second before he was hooking his arms underneath the bend of Tony's knees, an arm bracing strong and firm around his shoulders. He swung Tony up into his arms easily, like he weighed nothing, and Tony made his obligatory disgruntled grunt, but there was that familiar smile tugging at the corners of his lips, the one he always tried to conceal but Steve always noticed. Tony's arms looped around his neck, and Steve could feel him curling his fingers gently into the hair there at the nape of his neck.

"There," Tony said, "You're carrying me. Satisfied?"

"Sure am," Steve responded cheerfully.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing to them their suite. At some point someone must have snuck up to their floor to decorate it, because there were no lights on, but the entire space was alight with the faint glow of candlelight. Every available surface was covered in the pillars of wax, sending warm light to flicker gently around the room.

"It looks like a fire hazard in here," Tony commented, and Steve had to agree.

"Let's just hope the room doesn't burst into flames while we're not paying attention," Steve said wryly, looking around the room nervously. It was nice, yes, very romantic, but he was also concerned that at any moment the room would burst into a flaming conflagration.

"JARVIS will let us know if the curtains catch on fire," Tony said absently. He smirked up at Steve, a suggestive twinkle in his eyes. "But I'm curious what you have in mind that would keep us so distracted."

Steve smiled softly down at him, and pressed a kiss to Tony's lips.

"Once I carry you over the threshold, I'd be happy to show you," Steve told him quietly when he leaned back, just far enough so that he still hovered over Tony's mouth.

Tony's glance slid away from Steve's face, to the impending house fire that was their suite. Steve saw something flicker across his face as his eyes assessed the room, something anticipatory and nervous all at once, in the way his eyes widened slightly and his lip ended up caught between his teeth for a brief moment. Steve waited, giving Tony a moment to let all of this sink in, Steve was feeling exactly the same way.

This kind of happiness was proving to be a little difficult to fathom.

Finally, Tony looked back at Steve, his smile gentle and content, and he leaned up to kiss Steve again.

"Carry on, soldier boy," he whispered against his lips.

Steve adjusted his hold on the wiry, dark haired man in his arms, and was more than happy to oblige.

***

Steve woke up with a smile curved softly over his lips, a deep rumble of contentment rumbling through his bones. There was the warmth of an arm slung across his stomach, the sound of soft snoring in his ear, and he felt like his chest was about to burst with the happiness.

He opened his eyes and leaned over to the sleeping figure who he knew would be there, who he knew would always be there, and brushed a kiss against the bare ridge of Tony's shoulder. He smiled as Tony murmured and shifted, his face all relaxed in sleep.

Steve was smiling sleepily as he snuggled in closer, fading back into sleep. Somehow, as he drifted back into slumber, he ended up grabbing Tony's left hand and holding it against his own chest.

That's how he fell asleep, all tangled around Tony's limbs, and that's how he woke up hours later. 

He woke again later still smiling, and stole an identical smile from Tony's lips, happily knowing that he could for the rest of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be back for the last three chapters (a new years themed fic in three parts) on Dec 31st.


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